


We're The Wild Ones, Raised By Wolves.

by halelujah



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Beta Derek Hale, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Dynamics, Puppy Piles, Rape/Non-con elements mentioned due to to Kate/Derek tag, Sheriff Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Slow Burn, The Slowest of Burns TBH, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, because OF COURSE THERE IS, sorta canon compliant, there will be blood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2018-11-16 01:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11243328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halelujah/pseuds/halelujah
Summary: "Your uncle not only killed people, he bit Scott unlawfully and without his consent, he also put a big, red target on our backs." Stiles continues calmly, folding her arms across her chest. She can't help but glare. "An action that I'm now going to reap the repercussions for.""He wasn't yours to kill!" Derek rumbles, icy blue flashing in his eyes. "He murdered Laura!"She sees the decision in Derek's eyes before it even turns in his mind that he should attack. As she watches Derek's muscles twitch and tense, she lets out a sharp bark, one that tells Scott to stay out of it, before she meets Derek head on, eyes burning crimson.[Or the fic where Stiles has always been a werewolf, an Alpha and female.]





	1. Chapter One.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, my little ducklings! Of course this was going to happen, I get bitten by the writing bug and then go on a binge where I ignore older, unfinished fics and create new ones! I know, I hate myself too, bleh. But alas, here this fic is.
> 
> I am completely screwing with canon, like, majorly, but it still plays a big part in this fic. I'm basically rewriting it, with a female Alpha!Stiles. Because the world needs an Alpha!female Stiles fic.
> 
> Title name from Bahari's Wild Ones.
> 
> Tell me what you think [here.](http://the-calvaree.tumblr.com)

"You don't even know half of what it takes to be an Alpha!"

Stiles snaps her jaws at Scott, keeping him in place and directly behind her. She knows without glancing back that his eyes are flaring in a molten gold, the only thing showing how angry he is. She's all kinds of proud that he's learnt control so easily under her guidance. 

"You're not the only born werewolf here, Hale." Stiles says, eyebrow raised. "But unlike yourself, I was groomed to become an Alpha whereas you were always going to be a Beta."

She knows she hits a nerve when Derek snarls at her, body swooping down into a defensive crouch. Scott does too at her back, his growls echoing lowly in his chest. 

"And as the residing Alpha of Beacon Hills, it's my duty and right to protect this town. Your uncle not only killed people, he bit Scott unlawfully and without his consent, he also put a big, red target on our backs." Stiles continues calmly, folding her arms across her chest. She can't help but glare. "An action that I'm now going to reap the repercussions for."

"He wasn't yours to kill!" Derek rumbles, icy blue flashing in his eyes. "He murdered Laura!"

"And I'm sorry for that." Stiles says sincerely, features going soft. "But I did what I had to do, to protect this town and the people in it."

She sees the decision in Derek's eyes before it even turns in his mind that he should attack. As she watches Derek's muscles twitch and tense, she lets out a sharp bark, one that tells Scott to stay out of it, before she meets Derek head on, eyes burning crimson. 

~

Derek lets out a hiss of pain, torso twisting away from Deaton's gentle hands. The vet smiles patiently down at him, smile stretching when he glowers up in return. 

"She's not as weak as I thought." He mutters reluctantly, wincing when the healing skin of his ribcage pulls.

Stiles had dug the claws of her right hand into his side, curling her fingers around his last rib and tugging hard enough to subdue him. It was a precise action, one that tells Derek he should never underestimate her again unless he wanted to see said rib on the outside.

"Miss Stilinski was trained by her mother. A person I hold in high regard like yours." Deaton explains, stepping away and pulling off his gloves. "She's more than capable of protecting herself and this territory. Has been since your sister and yourself left."

"Why didn't my mother tell us about another Alpha being here in Beacon Hills?"

"It wasn't your business to know." Deaton answers simply. "Until Laura took her place as Alpha, it wouldn't have been. It's uncommon and a little unorthodox for my liking, but two Alphas residing in one place isn't necessarily a bad thing."

Derek grunts, heart clenching painfully at the mention of his sister. Her scent was fading quickly from his person, from their things he'd brought with him in the Camaro. It widens the crack in his soul where the rest of his family would have been placed.

"How is it someone so young has kept a territory as big as this one, protected?" Derek asks, rubbing a palm over his throat. 

He can still feel the phantom touch of Stiles' jaws wrapped around his jugular, is a little surprised and a whole lot pissed that he submitted so easily. He blames it on the will to live, though what for, he isn't so sure. It beats the other option of accepting he'd just had his ass handed to him by a teenager. Said teenager that after he had submitted, picked him up like he had weighed nothing, placed him gently into her Jeep and drove him to Deaton’s, to be patched up.

He’s somewhat thankful. An attack from an Alpha healed a hell of a lot slower than any other wound from a Beta or Omega, and he didn’t feel like having his insides on the outside for hours until he healed.

"It hasn't been easy. Claudia never bit anyone before she died, didn't want to, I believe. There was only her husband and Stiles in her Pack which is why your family and hers coexisted peacefully. She groomed Stiles to take her place as Alpha before she died." The vet tells him, frowning. He leans against the shelf and crosses his arms and ankles. "When word got around that what was left of the Hales, had left town and a thirteen year old girl was the residing Alpha, Hunters and other werewolves thought Beacon Hills was ripe for the picking."

"How'd she fight them off?" Derek says, feeling his stomach roll. Sure he didn't like Stiles, but having people out for your blood wasn't something he'd want anyone to go through, werewolf or not. Especially that young. 

At this, Deaton smiles. "Through a lot of wit and loopholes, I'd imagine. She's smart. Made more alliances than shed blood, but that's not to say she didn't."

"Rogue Hunters and werewolves." He surmises, sitting up and pulling his shirt on, now that the skin near his right hip has closed. It still hurts to move freely and will for a few more hours, but at least he isn't bleeding anymore. "What happened?"

"You'll have to ask her." Deaton says, giving him an enigmatic smile.

~

"Scott, seriously." Stiles sighs. "The point of this exercise is to get you used to using your other senses. You've walked into three trees and stumbled over a rock and log. You can do better than that!"

"That's because I _can't_ see!" Scott growls, frustrated. He's standing mulishly a few feet away from her and looks like he's seven seconds away from pouting. 

"That's the whole point. Your eyes shouldn't be the only thing you rely on." She calmly says and the pout predictably appears. "Smell the trees, does the scent get stronger when you take a step forward or does it fade into something else? Hear the wind blow, does it break between the trees or does it rush towards you, in one wave? What about the ground beneath your feet? Does it dip low or does it rise? You need to know this in case one of your senses is taken."

"Did your mom teach you this?" Scott asks, head tilted to the side. 

Stiles swallows the lump that forms in her throat, knows her best friend can hear how her heart thumps rapidly behind her rib cage. "Yes. We made a game of it when I was six. By the time I was ten I could run through these woods with all but one sense to my advantage."

Scott's uneven jaw works for a few seconds before he visibly shakes himself. "Okay. Let's do this again."

She smiles when he begins to make his way through the trees, steps slow but gaining in confidence. She rumbles her approval. 

Scott preens at the sound and then promptly walks into a tree. 

~

"What can I do for you, son?"

Derek fidgets under Sheriff Stilinski's gaze. He has no idea why he's here or why Stiles let her father answer the door when she knows it's him. He hadn't been hiding the fact he was coming to her house, what with the specific rumble of his car and the fact she could hear his heartbeat. 

She was just being an asshole. Derek isn't all that surprised. 

"I'm here to announce myself to the Alpha of Beacon Hills." He says, squaring his shoulders. 

“Alpha?” A confused look graces the Sheriff's face. "Like Alpha and Omega? Like _wolves_?"

Derek has a moment of pure panic shoot through him, his shoulders now hunched by his ears. 

Did he not know what his daughter or wife is?

He stumbles over his words, tries to find a lie that would explain why he was at the Sheriff's doorstep talking about wolves, without sounding like he had completely lost his mind.

A grin begins to play on the older man's face, "Relax, son, I know all about werewolves. Kinda hard not to when you've lived with them for as long as I have."

Derek doesn't know if he should glare, laugh or cry. 

He goes with glare. 

All that earns him is a chuckle and a warm hand firmly tugging him further into the house. "Never gets old. You should see the looks on your faces when I do that." 

He glares a little more, noting that being an asshole is in the Stilinski gene. 

"Stiles, you've got a visitor." He says to the ceiling, voice even and not at all raised. 

He really was telling the truth when he mentioned that he had been living with werewolves for a long time. Someone would have raised their voices to be heard, it would have been ingrained in them to do it, but the Sheriff hadn’t so much as changed the pitch of his tone. 

There's a series of thumps upstairs before she's standing in the lounge room, wearing another plaid shirt and a pair of shorts that stop mid-thigh. Normally there would be a band tee underneath the open shirt, but today she's got it buttoned up to the wings of her collarbones, her throat bared for all to see.

Derek's uncomfortable at the display and he's not entirely sure why. 

"I've got it from here, thanks Dad." She smiles, stepping in close to hug him, nose rubbing into the material of his uniform. 

"Alright Kiddo," he returns her smile, pressing his face against his daughter's hair, _scent marking her_ , before releasing her to walk out of the lounge room and then the front door. "No blood on the carpet."

"One time!" She calls after him, grin playing on her face. 

It's silent when they both listen to the cruiser drive off, Stiles watching him stand there awkwardly through wide whiskey eyes. 

"What's up?" She asks, minutes later, head tilted to the side.

Derek sighs. "I don't know what to do now that Peter's dead but -- but leaving doesn't feel like an option, not right now, anyway." He pauses, looking around the room before connecting their gazes together. "With your permission Alpha Stilinski, I'd like to stay here in Beacon Hills."

Stiles stares at him, face carefully blank for so long that he begins to fidget. 

"Well?" He asks, trying not to snap.

"Where are you staying?" She asks, completely throwing him off. "Because I can't let you stay in the Hale house. It's not safe for Hunters and house collapsing reasons."

Hurt pulses through him at her words and Derek has to push down the urge to fight her declaration. He knows she's right, his home was now just a husk of wooden bones and faded memories. A good wind could knock it down around his ears or Hunters could easily find the house and do with it what they will, most likely with him still inside. 

"I haven't found anything yet. I've been living in the car." He answers truthfully and not totally sure why. 

His mother had the same infuriating habit of getting him to admit things with just an eyebrow twitch in his direction. This was different though, it wasn’t his mother. It’s a different Alpha and one he sort of finds infuriating.

"You're gonna have to stay here then." Stiles tells him, turning to walk out of the room. 

Derek's mouth gapes for a few seconds before he darts after her, spluttering all the while. "You can't -- that's not -- _what_?"

"Don't worry," she flaps a hand at him as she stands at her front door and opens it for him. "It's equal parts to give you a safe place to sleep and for me to keep an eye on you. Everyone wins. Now go get your crap and be back by six. We have dinner at six thirty, you're not here, you miss out."

~

Derek has no idea how this happened. This being him sitting awkwardly at a table with Stiles, her father, Scott and his mother Melissa, a roast dinner sitting between them. Oh, he knows it's because Stiles told him about the dinner, it's the _why_ he listened, that's got him so confused. 

"Pass the peas, son." Sheriff Stilinski asks him, nudging him with an elbow. 

He passes the bowl automatically and wonders briefly if he's gone insane when the older man thanks him. 

"Are you -- are you okay with me staying here?" Derek questions, glancing at the older man, hands fiddling with his knife and fork. 

He expects a frown or a glare, what he's not expecting is a comforting smile. "If Stiles wants you close, it's for good reason. It's probably to give you a chance to rest and definitely because she wants to make sure you don't get into trouble, but I trust Stiles' judgment."

Derek is slightly unnerved about how correct that assumption is. 

“Besides, werewolf protocols override human ones, here. I’m not supporting her decision as a Sheriff or her father, I’m supporting her as her Beta and Packmate. ” The older man continues, with a shrug. He then looks thoughtful. “Sometimes I have to let her step in as an Alpha, _my Alpha_ , and put the thought of her being _my daughter_ in the back of my mind. It’s just the way these things are.”

"But aren't you worried that something might happen to you or to your daughter?" He asks, then frowns hard because it just sounded like he threatened the Sheriff of Beacon Hills and an Alpha's father. 

He glances over at said Alpha and notes she's too busy engaging in tag teaming with Scott, against his mother into allowing them to do some stupid stunt. He can tell Melissa is only going along with it for entertainment's sake, a grin tugging at her lips. 

Derek turns his attention back to Stiles' father and startles at the amused look playing on his face. 

"Just because I'm an old human, don't think I'm not prepared in taking care of myself, son. Werewolves are easy to take down. Having wolfsbane bullets goes a long way too." He tells him, forking a piece of chicken and popping it into his mouth. It puts his bare right wrist into view, where five silvery white lines slice down his forearm and down to his elbow. _Claw marks_. Following Derek’s gaze, he smiles slightly. "You should have seen the other guy."

Derek, with wide eyes, has to admit to himself that the Stilinski duo are terrifying. 

~

"There's spare blankets in that closet if you get cold, bathroom is down the hall and to the left." Stiles tells him, hours later, leaning against the door jamb to the room he's in. "You've got free reign here in the house, but my room and my father's are off limits unless we've said otherwise."

"Understood." Derek replies, nodding his head. 

He takes in the spare room, the bed he's standing in front of is large, easily able to fit a couple on. There's a dresser to the right and bedside table near his left hip, a lit lamp sitting on it. It's basic, but it's homier than anything he's ever stayed in since the fire tore his life apart. 

“I’m not worried about my Dad, you know.” She says after a beat of silence. “I mean, I am, he’s _my father_ and human, of course I’m going to worry, but not for the reasons you were questioning him on, at the dinner table tonight.”

Derek flushes slightly, both at being called out by Stiles, and thinking she wasn’t aware of the conversation on the other end of the table. Scott, he might be able to pass it by, but it was stupid to think she was the same.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect,” he says, tries not to panic and snap, shoulders coming up to hug his ears.

“I know, I’m just letting you know that your worry is appreciated but not necessary.” Stiles states, waving his words away. She’s still sprawled on the door frame, looking relaxed and not at all offended, so he lowers his shoulders slightly. “He’s been in this lifestyle for twenty nine years, he’s been trained by my mother how to defend himself and myself how to fight. He’s taken down werewolves and Hunters without breaking a sweat. But, if he has to, he _will_ defend me if you decide to take revenge for Peter’s death and it will be painful on your part.”

He snaps his head up from where he was gazing steadily at the corner of the room, to Stiles’ eyes. He shakes his head quickly. “No – that’s not why I said – that’s not it at all. I just meant that he seemed comfortable with a twenty two year old _human_ staying in his house, with his seventeen year old daughter. No one else will understand or think that it’s because I’m a werewolf taking sanctuary in an Alpha’s home. They’ll question it.”

She squints slightly before nodding. “You let us worry about that if they do. They won’t, because of Dad’s position as Sheriff, and while I may have gotten some from my mother, but the ability to spin a conversation on its head? Totally a Stilinski trait. We’ll have people baking you pies and welcoming you back home, in no time.”

Derek seriously doubts that, what with him being accused of murdering Laura, but he appreciates her words anyway.

"Alright then." She says. She pushes herself away from the door jamb to her full height and turns to walk away. "I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

"Stiles?" He murmurs, sure she'll be able to hear him. 

She turns and faces him with a questioning look. 

“Thank you. Just –” He looks her directly in the eye and tells her sincerely, " _Thank you_."

She gives him a soft smile and nod before disappearing from sight.


	2. Chapter Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek slowly starts to realise that having Stiles as an ally is better than having none at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** As you've seen in the tags, there is underage and rape/non-con. I have chosen to tag them because of the Kate Argent/Derek Hale tag and what she did to Derek. Nothing is described, I don't go into detail, but it is explicitly said that a much older Kate was involved sexually with a younger Derek. Please, please tread lightly if you are triggered easily, or even comment on this chapter for a run down, something I will gladly do if you want. Your safety is important, okay babies?
> 
> Also, I'm very excited that people are happy with me continuing, so, here, have a second chapter waaaaaay earlier than planned, because I am an eager beaver. :D
> 
>  
> 
> [You know the drill loves.](http://the-calvaree.tumblr.com)

"What are you going to do about the Argents?" Derek asks, two weeks after that first night, sitting across from Stiles at the dinner table. "They'll be back to hunting us once they finish mourning... _her_.”

Even after all this time, trying to say her name still makes him sick to his stomach. 

Stiles drops her pencil with a sigh and rubs her eyes tiredly. She looks completely worn down, from what Derek knows has been meetings with the Alphas of surrounding towns to ensure their alliances. It seemed Beacon Hills wasn't the only territory Peter wreaked havoc on. 

He may have overheard Stiles speaking with her father about it. He'll never admit it, but if one didn't want someone listening in on a conversation, maybe don't do it with other werewolves in the vicinity. 

"I'm not sure." She says honestly. "I haven't been able to get a meeting with Victoria to discuss the possibility of a treaty. She won't accept, but it's worth the shot."

"She won't," he agrees, "Because Argent will hunt me down to avenge his sister."

"There is _nothing_ to avenge. Peter was the one to kill Kate and he's six feet under too." The brunette states firmly, eyes hard. "If Chris _or_ Victoria touch you, they'll answer to me."

Derek sits there stunned, feeling off balance at the vehemence in Stiles' voice. No one had ever taken his side so quickly, not since Laura. It’s terrifying, if he’s being honest with himself, but it’s like a breath of fresh air too. His mind turns to the words they shared that first night he stayed, where Stiles promised the people of Beacon Hills would welcome him back home in no time and bake him pies.

When the first pie– apple and pecan –had been handed to him three days after, Derek almost thought it had been a joke on the universe’s part and nearly tossed it into the bin, only saved by the Sheriff’s quick hands and a soft glare, the older man muttering about how ‘you don’t throw out Mrs. James’ pies unless you want a bullet to the ass’ as he walked to place the pie in the fridge.

The pie itself had been delicious but Derek wrote it off as a one-time thing, a hah hah moment on his part and left it at that.

He glances down at the half finished rhubarb pie sitting between him and Stiles, two spoons smeared with filling and whipped cream resting in the tin. Mrs. Henderson had given it to him this morning on his run, with a cheerful ‘you take care now!’

Derek hates being wrong, but he thinks it isn’t as bad as seeing a smug Stiles.

"Thank you." He tells her, voice scratchy. 

"Don't thank me yet." Stiles replies, smiling grimly. "You'll have to sit with me in the meeting if Victoria does agree. She's gonna go for the sore spots, try and get a reaction out of you to prompt retaliation."

"But there can only be two representatives for both parties. The leader and their Second in command." Derek frowns, trying to remember some of Laura's Alpha lessons he'd listened in on, as a child. "I'm not a part of your Pack, so if I go, what about your father? Shouldn’t he be there?"

She nods, confirming his vague memories are correct. "Yes, you're not in my Pack, but this is a delicate situation. I’d usually have my father there since he is my Second, but this would actually require both you and Scott to be present and not my Dad. We're likely going to hash out everything that happened with Kate and the shit-storm that followed and then get into Allison and Scott's situation. That's going to be one epic pissing contest."

"Which means Allison is going to be their third party." Derek surmises. He thinks about how horrible that's going to be. "That sucks."

"Yup," Stiles says, popping her lips with a roll of her eyes. "The joys of being an Alpha."

~ 

Surprisingly, Victoria Argent reaches out to Stiles first on a random Monday morning, three weeks after everything that happened at his old childhood home and requests a meeting that night. Stiles tells her father and Derek when she comes home from school, a frown marring her lips. 

"Are you absolutely sure that I can’t be there, Kiddo?" John asks her, eyeing her with concern. “Because I don’t like the look you have on your face.”

Derek had been present when the fight that had followed, after the Sheriff had found out he wasn’t allowed to be at the meeting, if one was set up. He hadn’t wanted to bring any attention to himself as he sat between father and daughter as they debated it out loudly, just watched silently as they both threw out points in their favour as to why the other should just agree with them.

“I’m your father _and_ your Second,” John snapped, arms folded across his chest, face twisted into fierce determination. “I should be there.”

“I know, Dad, I _know_.” Stiles had finally conceded, shoulders slumped. “But Derek and Scott need to be there, because what we’re likely going to talk about directly involves them! I can’t not have them there. It’ll look like I’m hiding them from answering any consequences that need to be laid out. You _can’t_ come.”

“No, Dad, we’ve been over this.” She replies to her father’s question. 

“Then what’s with the face?” He says.

Derek’s body tensed the second he'd heard her elevated heart rate from outside the house, and he hasn't relaxed ever since. He knows what she's worried about, knew as soon as their eyes connected when Stiles stepped into the kitchen. 

"She wants me there." Derek tells the Sheriff, trying to still his shaky hands, but ends up pulling them off the table and wringing them in his lap instead, out of view. 

"I tried to keep you away," Stiles says, eyes hard. There’s a low growl in her voice, one that her father can’t hear, but definitely can feel, going from the gooseflesh that dances over the skin of his forearms. The sound for Derek makes him want to bare his neck. "Allison was insistent on your presence being there."

He swallows and shakes his head. "We both knew that this might happen. You said so yourself."

"Yes, I did.” She agrees, lips pulling down into a frown, one that tells him she hates being right sometimes. “Doesn't mean I want you anywhere near them." 

"I'm sorry, I must be missing something." John cuts in, staring at his daughter then cutting his gaze over to Derek. "Don't talk over my head. We promised, no secrets."

Derek's chest tightens harshly. Stiles was a smart person and she had figured out what had happened all those years ago with Kate. Being a werewolf might have helped with the sting of that knowledge, but he wasn't so sure he liked having the Sheriff know his... _Failures_. 

She reaches for her father’s hand and squeezes it. "I've never hidden anything from you, not since Mama died, but this? This isn't _my_ secret to tell. Please, don't ask me to tell you, because I won't."

John glances between her and Derek for a long while this time, but the panic brewing behind his ribs ebbs away when he finally nods. "Then I won't."

 

~

 

Derek notices the change almost immediately. Stiles, when she had jumped into the Jeep, was her usual bubbly, slightly annoying self, but the moment she had pulled onto the Argent's street, a blank look took over her features. Back and shoulders straightened out and her chin was tilted up in demanded authority. Her heartbeat slowed down, steady like a metronome. 

He uses the sound to even out his breathing, fully aware that Scott and Stiles can hear his own heart race behind his ribs, and feeling entirely grateful that they don't mention it. 

"You'll be okay, dude." Scott whispers to him, when they stand on the Argent's porch and wait for someone to answer the door. He moves to stand beside him at Stiles' back, their shoulders brushing. "Do you really think she’ll let anything bad happen to you?"

Derek feels weird that his safety is being held in the palms of a teenager, but what else was there to do? Who else was there to ally himself with while he stayed in Beacon Hills?

The door is opened before Derek can answer, to both Scott and his own questions, revealing Chris Argent. He glances over them with sharp eyes, gaze lingering on him and his lips turning into an ugly sneer, fingers that were gripping the door jamb twitching like he was just holding himself from attacking. 

"Mr. Argent, hello." Stiles says, drawing his attention from him to her. 

"Evening, Stiles." He greets, gaze falling on her, a smirking taking over his features. 

"Only friends and people at a party call me Stiles. This isn't a social event nor do I call you my friend." Stiles says, voice even. "It's either Alpha or Miss Stilinski when you address me, same goes for anyone else in the room we will be talking in. Do I make myself clear?"

Derek's nerves are soothed, even more so when all Chris does is nod silently, mouth now agape. Scott winks at him discreetly, as if telling Derek he told him so. 

Maybe he didn't need to worry about standing behind a teenager, maybe he didn't have to find another ally. 

Stiles, Derek thinks, following after her, might just be enough. 

~

"Alpha Stilinski, thank you for joining us." Victoria tells her, gesturing to the table between them. 

Derek silently wonders if the older woman heard Stiles at the front door or if she was more likely to follow procedures than her husband.

There's only two chairs at said table, one on each side, Victoria seated on one and Stiles now on the other. Allison and Chris stand behind her, the former to her left and the latter to the right, their arms clasped together in front of them. It's supposed to show a sign of trust, of being bare, weapon less. Derek isn't fooled for one second. He knows there's a gun or knife on their person.

Scott and Derek mimic them, Scott to the left and Derek to the right behind Stiles' chair. It was a decision Stiles told them last minute in the car, the brunette explaining to them that if this was to go south, she knew there would be no hesitation on Derek's part. 

Scott had reluctantly agreed after not being able to answer Stiles' question of, "I know you care for Allison, buddy, but can you, _will you_ , protect me against her if she pulled a gun on me?"

It's an action that intrigues both Chris and Victoria, their eyebrows raised before turning a curious glance at the brunette. 

"You didn't give me much choice," Stiles replies, clearly ignoring their silent question. She nods in their daughter's direction. "She's very persuasive when she's holding a knife to your ribs."

Scott's shoulders twitch forward like he's just stopped himself from pouncing, and Derek sees a hard frown take over his features. That settles the question if the young Beta would protect his Alpha from anyone, because he would, even if that meant including his girlfriend. 

Said girlfriend darts her gaze down to the floor, an embarrassed flush burning at her cheeks. Derek wonders if she wanted to do that to Stiles or if she was forced.

"Yes, well. My daughter needs to learn to be detached when it comes to this lifestyle." Victoria answers, her cool eyes gazing over at Scott. "The people she once knew or cared for, might very well be the thing she's supposed to kill."

Derek clenches his teeth and watches Stiles do the same with her fists under the table. Scott tries to catch Allison's gaze from the floor. 

"That sounds awfully like a threat," Stiles smiles with a lot more teeth. "Didn't think us trying to establish a treaty would devolve into finding out who's the baddest bitch so quickly. I’ve only just got comfortable."

"And why would I agree to a treaty with the monster that killed my sister-in-law?" Victoria suddenly snaps, glaring. 

Behind her, Chris' eyes flash dangerously in Derek's direction. 

"Derek Hale didn't kill Kate Argent, his uncle Peter did." Stiles calmly states before looking at the older Hunteress. "In fact your husband and daughter were there to witness it. Miss Argent because Kate decided to bring her in on her psychotic mission, to finish what she started seven years ago, and Mr Argent being there, because I led him there after telling him who the real monster is; his sister."

A fist slams on the table and before Scott and Derek can even move, Stiles holds her hand up and halts them in their path of jumping over the table. 

"I suggest you teach your soldiers some manners." Stiles says, a low growl echoing in her chest. "Because the next time something like that happens, I won't hold my Betas back."

It’s a tense few seconds, the older Huntress looking annoyed at how he and Scott hadn’t twitched when Stiles’ hand had come into view.

"My apologies." Victoria replies, nodding her head at her husband, watching him step back into his original position at her shoulder with a squint to her eye. Everyone ignores the way he slides the blade that wasn’t there seconds before, into the back of his jeans. "Though I fail to see _why_ you've accepted Hale in the first place."

"What I do with my Pack is of no concern to you." Stiles snaps, glaring. "I also didn't come here to be insulted. Either we discuss what you have in mind for a treaty, or I'm leaving with both my Betas unharmed."

Victoria stares Stiles down, but all the young Alpha does is lean back against her chair and stare back. Derek's impressed. He's not so sure he could look the older woman in the eye for more than what was politely appropriate, if their positions had been swapped. 

"Let's get to it then," said woman says after minutes of silence. 

"Agreed." Stiles nods, accepting the notebook and pen Derek hands her. "I've already written down my side of things."

She tears out the paper and slides it across the table. Derek blanches at the way Victoria avoids Stiles' touch when she pulls it closer to herself. 

She scans over the paper before her head snaps up. "You want Kate's murder to go unjustified?"

Chris' lips twist into a cheap imitation of a snarl and Allison’s jaw clenches. 

Folding her hands together, Stiles nods. "There is nothing _to_ justify. It's common knowledge and on my father's reports, a mountain lion did the job. Officially though, everyone in the room, knows who really ripped her throat out and why she had to die."

"Derek may not have killed her, but he's the cause of all this!" Allison snaps, glaring over at Stiles, then at him. "What he is, killed his family and mine!"

There's a growl, low and full of warning, and it surprises him that it isn't coming from his own chest, but Stiles'. When she glances up at him, a red tint to her eyes, there's a question that lies behind them, one that is asking for permission. 

The idea of people knowing the extent of _her_ effects on him, of how deep she sunk her nails into his soul, sends a cold sweat over his body and his heart to race. He knows that if he were to shake his head, Stiles would leave it, would still verbally rip the Argents before her, a new one. But then, after everything that he's been through, after the deaths of his family, all he wants now is to heal. All he wants is to stop taking the blame for something he didn't do, from taking the accusations that are hurled in his direction from other people that don't know the truth. And himself even when he does. 

With that in mind, he nods. 

Still keeping their gazes locked, Stiles says, "Kate used Derek, Allison. She pulled a fifteen year old into her bed and that same night, lit a match that not only killed women and children, but human ones at that too." Facing the young Hunteress, she bares her teeth in her direction. "What got your aunt killed was _her own_ immoral compass and your family's twisted bigotry against my kind. I'm not gonna lie, if it wasn't for Peter, I would have done it myself and take this however you want, but Peter didn’t let her suffer enough for my liking."

~

Nothing else had happened after Stiles spoke, except for a long silence, then Allison turning pale, her lips trembling. Derek doesn’t know if it’s because of her view of her aunt has now been dragged through the scum, or the way Stiles, her own classmate, had admitted she would’ve taken her throat out if his uncle hadn’t. Either way, she had crumpled in over herself and despite what he had thought before, he wasn’t happy about it.

She was young, born into a world that was harsh as it was filled with shades of grey, and told it was either black or white, no in-betweens. Derek had always known the dangers of his world, fairy tales told to him by his mother when he was just a young boy, before they turned out to be very real and just as deadly. 

Scott had looked like he wanted to comfort her, but stood exactly where he was, only moving to flank Stiles, with Derek by his side, when she stood up silently and excused them all with nothing but a nod. 

"I'll meet you at home," she spoke, when he didn't get into the jeep like Scott had. "I don't want you out here by yourself. Especially after dropping a bomb like that on the Argents. They might go looking for trouble."

And that's where she finds him two hours later, after a lengthy run in the Preserve, sitting on the Stilinski house roof, eyes closed and a feeling coursing through his body. He doesn’t know if it’s relief or something else, but it feels different to anything he’s ever felt before. 

"Mind if I join you?" She asks. 

Derek merely nods, listens and feels her settle down beside him. 

"I'm sorry for bringing your past into the light." She says, her heartbeat steady in his ears. "But thank you for allowing me to set the record straight. It should have been you to do that, I'm positive, but I couldn't let them go on in thinking that horrible person was anything other than that."

Opening his eyes, Derek breathes in shakily. "It's -- it's the first time it's ever been spoken out loud. No one else knew. Except for me and --"

He lets out a frustrated growl, hands coming up to grip at his hair tightly, sharp points of pain blossoming on his scalp from his claws. He's so afraid of saying Kate’s name, of saying the things that have happened to him, _because_ of him, but he's completely exhausted by it too. 

It felt like he was constantly moving back and forward, like the ocean when the tides set in or ebbed away. It felt like he could breathe one second but feel like he was gasping for air the next. All he wanted was a moment of peace, and no matter how hard he fought for it, it was always out of reach.

With everything sort of out in the open, he didn’t know how to feel. Before, when it was just him knowing what role Kate played in, he hated it, of course he did, but it was home in the sense of how familiar he was with keeping this so close to his chest. Now, it was unknown territory he was walking through, his chest now feeling hollowed out and ripped open, like a festering wound that had been cleansed because it was sorely needed for the healing to begin.

"Hey, hey.” A warm palm cups his elbow, stopping him from tearing his hair out. “Stop, Derek, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

He unclenches his hands and lets Stiles cradle them in her lap, her wrists resting over the clawed tips of his fingers. It’s a huge declaration on her part, where she’s silently showing her trust in Derek not to harm her. She tries to connect their gazes but he refuses to look up, afraid that she’ll see the unshed tears clouding his vision.

“It’s going to take a long time for you to believe me, but what happened, _isn’t_ your fault.” She murmurs, clutching his own wrists firmly, grounding him in the here and now. He feels the Shift pull back completely, his fingers no longer tipped with claws. “She’s gone, she’s never coming back and you’re alive. So _live_ , make your family, your _Pack_ proud.”

Derek nods with a hard tilt of his chin, tries not to sob loudly as his chest begins to heave and tears slide down his cheeks. 

“If you need it, I can leave,” Stiles says moments later when the silence stretches, only disturbed by the hitches of his breathe. 

He tightens his hands around hers, keeping her from shifting away from him. “Stay. _Please_.”

Derek isn’t sure why he pleads, why he doesn’t shove her away and demand that she keep her nose out of his business. Maybe it’s because he feels so bare, especially now that Stiles knows his worst secrets and he’s afraid. He’s afraid of what she’ll do with that knowledge. It wouldn’t be the first time someone used something so powerful over him, against him.

Stiles hasn’t done anything with it, not really, he thinks. Sure, she had dragged Kate’s horrible intent to light, but she had asked permission first and she hadn’t gotten anything out of it for herself. She even refused to tell her father, even after admitting out loud that she hadn’t kept a secret from him since her mother passed. That had to be four to five years of complete honesty between them and Stiles had chosen to keep this one thing from her father, _for Derek_. It would have been hard on her to do something like that. Derek’s seen just how close the father and daughter duo are, probably even closer now that they lost a member of their small Pack.

As Stiles settles more comfortably against his side, all but tucked into his body, Derek wonders if maybe he can be accepted in said Pack. The panic he expects to flare up in his chest doesn’t come.

Instead, he wonders what that means and where that leaves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I love italics. *shrugs helplessly*


	3. Chapter Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a new baddie in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING** : There is talk of cannibalism. It is something that is implied/showed in an episode of Teen Wolf. If this squicks you, I apologise, but it's only said in one small section of text and is never mentioned again. The first and last word of the section will be in bold, so you know where to skip and begin reading again, if you'd like to continue with this chapter.
> 
> There is also a panic attack here in this chapter, more a loss of control than anything else, but I just wanted to give anyone that needed it, a heads up. 
> 
> There should be a new chapter of Do Not Test Me this weekend, if not, next week at the latest. You all have my permission to demand and scream at me [here](http://the-calvaree.tumblr.com) if I don't deliver.
> 
> Enjoy, babies and stay beautiful!

~

“I said no.” Stiles says, a bite to her words. She can feel a headache coming on despite not ever having one before.

“He needs _our_ help!” Scott argues, a furrow to his eyebrows that tells her he isn’t backing down, not yet. “I know you can smell the bruises on him, hear how terrified he is to go home every day!”

“That isn’t my problem, Scott. Yes, I feel terrible knowing that Isaac’s home isn’t safe for him, but there is nothing I or my Dad can do for him! He won’t say how he’s really getting hurt and Dad isn’t going to force it out of him.” Stiles tries to reason, eyes soft. 

Everyone knew that Isaac’s father had lost his grip on sanity when Camden didn’t return from his tour overseas. That the older Lahey had turned a violent leaf, a temper that flared dangerously on anyone within range, sometimes his swimming team, but usually always his son.

Several calls, both anonymous and call registered, had been logged at the Station about the abuse their classmate went through, the bruises sometimes seen through a glimpse or flinch when accidentally brushed. Stiles herself was behind most of them, her connection to the Sheriff more than likely used frequently when Stiles caught the sight of finger tipped marks over the bicep of Isaac’s arm.

But with him always lying and making light about his “clumsy self”, her father couldn’t help him. No one could.

“We can’t help him.” She repeats out loud, willing her best friend to use his ears. 

“You can give him the bite,” her best friend states. “You can turn him.”

“I really can’t,” Stiles shakes her head. “There are rules and –“ 

“What about Erica then, hm?” Scott interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest. “She nearly died today because of her seizures. If it wasn’t for me catching her, she would have.”

Stiles gets up from where she sat down at the kitchen table and grabs Scott’s shoulders, giving him a gentle shake to show how serious she was. “If werewolves start turning up in Beacon Hills, _newly bitten_ ones at that, the Argents will take that as a declaration of war and all hell will break loose. I want to help Isaac and Erica, I do, there’s even someone _I_ had in mind that would make a great werewolf, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go bite him. This is a dangerous time right now Scott, we cannot afford to be reckless.”

“Screw the Argents,” he mutinously snaps, though his voice belies the defeated slump of his shoulders.

Stiles barely manages to stop herself from saying something along the lines of ‘you already are and it’s their daughter.’ Instead she presses their foreheads together, silently calming her best friend while they breathe together.

“Maybe we can help them later, but _just not right now_.” She murmurs, pulling back and patting him on the chest lightly. “Now come on, Derek wants to see what you’ve got in offence today. It’s good that he’s agreed to help me train you a little. Don’t want you getting used to just sparring with me.”

Scott predictably groans like she knew he would. He still follows after her when she makes her way towards the front door. “I don’t know why he thinks throwing me into trees is ‘training.’ It sucks. And _hurts_.”

Stiles laughs and bumps their shoulders together, but stops when her phone begins to ring. Frowning at her Dad’s face grinning up at her, she feels a sense of dread roll down her spine. It wasn’t the fact that he was calling that had Stiles on edge, he always called at the end – and depending on the roster, the beginning of – his shifts, but never in the middle of it, choosing to send texts periodically just to check in. 

“Yeah, Dad?” She asks, tensing.

“I’m okay, but it’s bad, Kiddo.” Her father sighs into the receiver. “Gerard Argent is in town. Kate and Chris’ father.”

~

“He will start something, there’s no doubt about it.” Stiles’ father says, arms crossed. “His own daughter dead, at the hands of someone he’s lived his entire life in the pursuit of. That’s got to light a fire under his ass.”

Derek flinches at the word use and only nods jerkily when the older man winces at him in apology at the hands of his daughter’s “ _Dad_!”

They’re all sitting in the Stilinski lounge room, Derek, Stiles and Scott on the three seat couch while Melissa and John take the singles placed on each side of the couch. It’s been like this ever since Stiles had gotten a call from her father telling her that Gerard Argent was in Beacon Hills, the brunette wanting everyone close and in her sights. 

Derek tries to ignore the relief that blooms in his chest that he’s counted as one of them, but fails.

“What are we going to do?” Melissa asks, when the silence stretches. “We don’t really know if he’s going to do anything.”

“He’s an Argent, killing is in his blood.” Derek scoffs out before he can stop himself.

“Hey!” Scott growls, glaring over at him, only to whine softly when Stiles obviously elbows him in the ribs.

“Not now.” She admonishes, “We have bigger problems than you defending Allison’s honor.”

Derek frowns as Scott nods. Still, he and Scott take a moment to glare again at one another, because despite being friendly to one another over the course of two months, there are still moments between them where they butt heads.

“Maybe you can ask for help from Satomi or maybe even, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, The Desert Wolf?”

Derek’s head shoots up, eyes wide. “You know who The Desert Wolf is?”

He’d heard stories about The Desert Wolf, ones that used to terrify his younger siblings and cousins, but that’s all it was: stories. His mother had insisted, though maybe his mother didn’t even know who it was, little alone if the stories were real or not.

“Lovely woman, if on the crazy side, but still lovely.” Stiles waves his disbelief away like it was an annoying fly. “And no, I can’t contact either her or Satomi. The former never staying in one place longer than a week, maybe less than that. The latter is on important business in regards with some skirmishes inside her pack. Besides, I don’t want to involve any outside parties just yet, this needs to stay in house.”

“Don’t base this on pride, Stiles.” The Sheriff sighed.

A glare gets tossed in her father’s direction. “This isn’t about pride. If the situation requires it, I will ask for help, but we haven’t seen what Gerard is really doing here in Beacon Hills. We all know that he’s not here just to mourn for his daughter, but if that’s what it seems like to anyone outside, it’s not good enough to get people on board.”

Her father nods in understanding, but he’s still frowning. They all are. Derek gets it, he does. Stiles won’t look like a formidable ally and Alpha, if she’s calling for help when at the moment, it isn’t needed. Gerard needs to make a move first and, if she can eliminate the problem herself, do so, if not, _then_ ask for assistance if need be.

“Maybe we can force his hand?” Scott says, looking at Stiles. 

She opens her mouth to say something but gets interrupted by Melissa’s noise of agreement. They all turn their eyes to her, eyebrows raised.

“Like you said, we know he’s here to do something against us, and if push comes to shove, you can say having a seasoned Hunter here in Beacon Hills without forewarning, is something to be wary about.”

It isn’t a bad idea, Derek thinks, nodding along with the Sheriff. 

The treaty between the Stilinski Pack and the Argent Clan wasn’t so much set in stone, more like in the air still, but Stiles had warned Allison that she had scented two Omegas in the Preserve a week ago, and out of courtesy had moved one along without any blood being shed but missed the second one by mere inches. There had been a reply the next day where reluctant appreciation and obvious contempt were given; the former for keeping civilians safe and the latter, for not being able to catch the second Omega. Stiles had said she wouldn’t do that again, a hard look playing on her face as she relayed what had happened. 

“But how does that force his hand?” Derek asks. “How do we even do that?”

A look graces Stiles’ face then and her eyes dart over to Scott, who looks back a little clueless, before seeming to get what she’s trying to communicate and begins to nod enthusiastically.

“Mind sharing with the class?” John says, equal parts amused and wary.

Stiles looks over at him and tells him, “We need more werewolves.”

~

As expected, when told that some things that go bump in the night is true, Erica, Isaac and Boyd look at her like she’s crazy. When they fly back out of their chairs when Derek snarls at them from behind her with his eyes flashing, that’s just as expected. It takes the trio three days to get over their shock and avoidance of both her and Scott, but on that fourth day, a week before the next full moon, Erica, Isaac and Boyd bare their right hip to Stiles’ fangs.

~

“ **What’s** with the face, Kiddo?” John asks, his glasses in hand and a spread of police reports out in front of him at the table. 

How he knew that Stiles had a face playing on hers, Derek didn’t know since she had her back to him. He’s almost certain that the father and daughter duo were telepathic.

“I think that Omega is closer to town than further out in the Preserve.” She replies, wiping at the plate mindlessly. It’s been dry for some time, which is probably why her father asked her if there was something going on. “I caught a scent this afternoon near the gas station when I was getting gas for Roscoe.”

Derek takes the plate from her hands and slides a wet, clean one in its place, before stacking the other on the counter to be put back into the cupboard. He continues washing up the pots used for dinner and says. “They could just be passing through.”

Stiles shakes her head. “Nah, I don’t think so. I had Isaac with me and he said that the scent smelt familiar because he caught a whiff of it at –“ Her voice cuts off and she’s suddenly spinning around to face her father, eyes wide. “He said the scent was similar to the one he smelt at the cemetery the night he got tossed into that open plot, when he was working.”

Derek glances between them, feeling confused, before it dawns on him and he glances over at the Sheriff. “But that’s when you guys found the dug up bodies with the –“

“Livers missing, presumed to be used for cult rituals.” John finishes, frowning. He stares at Stiles. “You think they’re out there digging up newly buried bodies and eating them?”

Stiles looks pale but sure as she nods. “If you’re desperate for food and have no access to get it, you’ll do **anything**.”

~

They’re in the Preserve two nights after their chat in the kitchen, trying to trace the Omega’s scent through the trees when Derek is tackled to the forest floor from behind. He struggles to get to his feet, a low growl bubbling up in his chest when the scent of an Alpha fills his nostrils.

He stills, chest heaving as Stiles grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him upright before shoving him to hide behind a thick tree, where Scott is panting and leaning against the sharp bark.

“What? What is it?” He asks, frowning and that’s when he hears it, a rabbit fast pulse and the pound of feet on dirt and leaves.

Stiles is growling lowly behind him when a man, dirtied from head to toe, matted hair and ripped clothes hanging from his thin body, stumbles to his knees twenty feet away from them, as an arrow pierces the meat of his thigh. He cries out in pain, crawls forward as a dozen men crash through the thickets, armed to the teeth with crossbows and guns, flashlights streaking over the trees and slicing through the dark.

“Stiles – we have to help him.” Scott whispers, moving to step from behind the tree.

The Omega changes direction then, obviously hearing Scott, and crawls towards where they are twenty feet away, his golden eyes silently pleading and his clawed hand stretching out for help. Derek feels sick as he stares on from behind the tree, but he’s reaching out as well to stop Scott, however it’s Stiles that halts the younger wolf in his tracks with her own clawed hand.

“We’d be all dead in seconds.” She answers gently, apologetic, both to Scott and the Omega’s silent question. She looks close to tears, though her eyes are flaring crimson as she says to the Omega, “May it be quick.” 

Another cry echoes before them when they drag the Omega back, and they watch on helplessly, a whimper taking up at the back of their throats as he’s strung up in a tree by bound hands. An old man is standing before him then, talking about how werewolves were an abomination that needed to be eradicated from the world before it was overrun with them.

“Do you want to know what a good werewolf is?” He asks the Omega, taking a step back to grab something from another Hunter. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just smiles and says, “Dead.”

In one fluid movement, he unsheathes a sword and while pulling his arms back, swings forward and – Derek turns his gaze away, noticing that Scott stares on in horror while Stiles has her eyes scrunched closed, her grip on her best friend and him tight to the point of pain, as tears slowly track down her cheeks.

He swallows and as quietly as he can, grabs Scott and her before leading them back towards where the Jeep is parked, a thick ugliness hanging over their heads. He gently pushes Stiles into the back of the car and while Scott slides into the passenger side, he’s in the driver’s seat, key already in the ignition and turned.

They both ignore the sobs that begin behind them, but when Stiles’ pulse starts to rise, starts to get a little too fast for Derek’s liking, Scott is climbing over his seat and wrapping his body around hers, his voice low and soothing. He puts his foot down on the pedal, sends a text for the Sheriff and Melissa to get to the house right now because Stiles isn’t calming down, despite Scott’s best efforts. It has his grip on the steering wheel so tightly, he can hear an ominous creaking sound as his claws dig messily into the skin of his palms.

“What happened?” John asks frantically, rushing towards the Jeep just as he pulls into the driveway. He glances into the car, and Derek has enough time to slip out of the seat before throwing it forward so he can get to his daughter.

Stiles is still crying, heart still racing, claws out too and eyes flaring into crimson before fading away and repeating, when the Sheriff picks her up, cradles her to his chest and shushes her gently. 

“I’ve got you, Kiddo, I’ve got you,” He whispers it over and over, all the way to the house until they disappear from view.

Derek evens his breathing, taking in Stiles’ scent and taking in deep gulps of _Alpha_ and _protection_. It’s enough to gain control over his hands, claws slowly sliding away to blunt nails and he wipes his bloody palms against the material of his jeans, trying to clean them. He still feels like he's a fraying thread away from losing his control because of what he seen, the slaughter, the _execution_ of the Omega playing in still frames in his mind.

He turns sharply at the low growl that comes from behind him and he stiffens when he sees Scott hunched over himself, still in the back of the Jeep, ears looking pointy.

“Scott? Baby, are you okay?” Melissa asks, her scent thickening now with worry when he flinched away from her hand.

“I can’t – I can’t _control_ it.” He snarls out, looking up with molten eyes. His sideburns are thick by his cheeks and his teeth are slowly elongating. “I need to – Stiles is – Derek _please_ –“

“Here, let me get to him.” Derek murmurs, when Melissa takes a step forward. “He might accidentally hurt you and that might set him off.”

He only moves when she nods, smiles as best as he can, before squeezing his way into the back to wrap around the younger wolf. It doesn’t feel weird, it isn’t, to have Scott curl into him and bury his nose into the crook of his neck, breathe hot and wet against his skin. It’s all instinct at the moment, to seek out Pack and family, to reassure yourself that they’re safe.

“It’s alright,” he whispers to Scott, winces only slightly when there’s claws digging into the skin of his hips where he’s being clenched around. “We’re all okay. Stiles is fine, her dad and your mother is too. I’m okay and so are you. _Just breathe_.”

Minutes pass by, Derek listening halfheartedly to where the Sheriff is humming softly under his breathe, Stiles’ pulse steadying slowly as he continues being the anchor she needs. Melissa has moved too, sitting in the Jeep, her hand gentle as it sweeps up and down through Scott’s hair, in only a way that belongs to a mother.

“You smell like Stiles and the Sheriff,” he snuffles into the collar of Derek’s Henley, not bothering to move away. “It’s nice.”

Derek doesn’t feel panic like he thought he would, because he knows what that means. He knows why his first reaction was to get Stiles and Scott away from the Hunting party, why he texted their parents to get to the house and wait for them to arrive. Why he was more than ready to ground Scott when his control was slipping and his Alpha wasn’t there to do it herself.

They were Pack. They were his Pack. Well, the _beginnings_ of his.

Nosing at Scott’s hair, Derek is more than okay with that.

 

~

The rest of the night is spent wrapped all together on a massive mattress that’s pulled into the living room. There’s no protests, no awkwardness in sight, just Derek being surrounded by warm bodies and snuffling noises from the wolves. Stiles is sprawled across his chest like she belongs there, Scott buried into his left side, one arm and leg wrapped around his to keep him in place. The Sheriff is pressed against his right arm, Melissa wedged between them, half on the mattress and on John, his nose buried in her hair.

They’re all asleep save for him and Derek takes a moment to breathe it all in, can see his mother standing at the foot of the mattress. He’s not sure if he’s imagining her, but he’s blown away at how beautiful she is, her hair flowing down over shoulders, skin smooth and tanned and her eyes, a mirror reflection of his own. She’s smiling softly at him, tears in her eyes at the way Stiles is nuzzling his neck in her sleep, at the way he’s in the center of the pile, happy and content.

“You’ve done well for yourself, little pup.” She murmurs, a rumble in her chest.

He tries not to choke on the emotions that well up in his own chest at her words, at her endearment that was only ever used for him. “I’m so –“

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Her eyes flash crimson, not in anger, but to assure him. “You’ve done nothing wrong and never forget that. What happened to us was just an unfortunate accident.”

Derek goes to apologise again because he really is sorry, and he _needs_ her to know that he never meant for any of this to happen, but gets stopped when Stiles again brushes her face into the curve of his throat.

“It’s okay,” she soothes, sleepily, one hand coming up to pat his cheek and ending up batting his nose instead. “We’re okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hears another rumble, this time though it’s coming from her chest and not his mother’s. He accepts her words with a nuzzle of his own, nosing at her hair for a brief moment, before glancing back to the foot of the mattress and seeing that his mother is gone.

He hears her though, hears his mother say, “Listen to her, little pup. She’s strong enough to see her words come to pass.”


	4. Chapter Four.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pack continues to solidify.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe that I had a NEW chapter of Do Not Test Me ready and to be posted two hours ago, but my laptop decided to malfunction on me, shut off and somehow affect Microsoft Word from automatically saving the document? Yes, that is what happened. So, please, if you will, imagine the string of curses that fell from my mouth, times that by ten and you will have my exact reaction. *sighs loudly and tries not to cry*
> 
> So to battle my fierce anger, I'm posting another chapter of this fic.
> 
>  **WARNING:** Implied physical abuse and explicit mention of alcoholism. There is also violence that **can be classified as self-half** and then violence against others. Please tread lightly babies if you're triggered or in any shape or form, uncomfortable with those aspects.
> 
> I also don't pretend to know anything about how the law works in the US or even here in Australia. But this is a fic about werewolves, so let's just pretend, yeah?
> 
> Stay beautiful babies, and enjoy!

~

Derek’s sitting on the couch with Stiles sitting at his knee at the coffee table, her text books and a notebook spread out before her. He doesn’t know how she’s managed to keep up with school work and what’s happening right now, is sure he’d break under all that pressure, but he’s kind of in awe at it all.

He thinks back on the time he’d lost with his own academic path and frowns. Laura had forced him to finish online of course, but it had stopped after that. Both because he didn’t really want to continue with anything related to college and because they were always looking over their shoulder, even when they were living permanently in New York. They had agreed that maybe having their names on paper in an official and legal setting might come back and bite them in the ass, so they had just lived as anonymously as they could.

“Can I ask you something?” Derek says, when his mind begins to wonder at Stiles having to do this and fight off Hunters or rogue werewolves, all the while learning long division.

Stiles hums in reply.

“How’d you manage to do all of this when you were younger?”

She glances up at him over her shoulder, head tilted to the side as she stared him down. It isn’t done meanly, just in a way that’s observing. Derek fidgets under her gaze anyway. She’s then shrugging a second later before turning back to face her homework.

“Mostly sabotage at first with the Hunters. They didn’t take to the idea of a fourteen year old scrawny girl, being an Alpha of a territory this large for only six months, so I had to come up with some tricks.”

Derek gets an image of a younger Stiles breaking guns and slashing car tires in the middle of the night and has to smile at the thought.

“When it got a little more dangerous than that, I had Satomi step in as mediator. Again, something Hunters didn’t take to the idea.” Stiles continues, with another shrug. “That ended up with me taking the throat of the leader of the Hunting party at the time, when she tried to kill Satomi. Word got around after that and there was a little more respect from there on. Not a lot, because there’s always going to be those righteous Hunters, but they all learned fairly quickly why that’s a mistake on their part to underestimate me."

He knows his eyes are wide as he watches on as Stiles explains all of this, while writing down what looks like to be a Chemistry equation. Deaton had told Derek that she had basically spun circles around them with her sharp wit, but to actually hear it, is a little alarming.

“What about rogue werewolves?”

“Doesn’t matter how old you are, they’ll submit in the face of an Alpha.” She replied, cryptically. “They’ll fight, of course, but in the end they’ll _always_ bare their throat.”

Like Derek said, alarming.

~

Derek’s following strict orders off in the produce isle, when he hears Allison’s voice on the other side of the store, where he knows is where Stiles is.

“I know what you’re doing Stiles and if I have to, I will tell my parents and grandfather.”

Derek grabs the nearest packet of chopped mushrooms and powerwalks back over to where Stiles is, keeping a close ear to her steady heartbeat and voice.

“If there’s a question there, Allison, I’d like to ask for transparency.” She formally replies, crinkling noises telling him that she’s not really paying attention to the young Huntress, but instead the rows of pasta noodles.

“You know what I’m asking, Stiles.” She snaps back, and it sounds like she’s snatched said pasta Stiles must have been holding, out of her hands and tossed it the ground.

Derek moves quicker, just rounds the corner to find an empty isle save for the Huntress and his Alpha, Stiles baring her teeth at Allison, who holds fast in the display of fangs. He growls lowly, feels his eyes flare up and crowds up behind Stiles, making his presence known that if she wanted him to, he’d attack with no remorse.

“Let me go and remove yourself from my vicinity, Allison.” Stiles warns, voice low. “Or Scott’s going to be very angry with me when he finds out how much I’ve hurt you.”

Derek hadn’t known the Huntress had wrapped her fingers around Stiles’ wrist until after the fact, until she let go and took four steps back. As expected, her face twisted sharply at the mention of her on-and-off-again boyfriend, looking equal parts upset and angry.

“I _will_ tell them that you’ve expanded your Pack, Stiles.” Allison spits out, glaring. “Erica, Boyd and Isaac, right? We’ll be watching them. _I_ will be.”

“Maybe the question you should be asking yourself is why I had to.” Stiles replies, matching her glare. “Your _unannounced_ grandfather brought in over two dozen men the week he arrived into my territory, a dozen the week after that. What’s he up to, _I’ve_ gotta ask?”

Allison doesn’t say anything so Stiles continues.

“You know that Omega I mentioned to you? The one that was with another that I managed to pass through Beacon Hills?” She asks, prowling forward, her movements more animal-like than human. “Your grandfather strung him up and _cut him in half._ Without so much as a thought of contacting me to see if I’d allow it or not. He’s done this and brought these Hunters here and you want to know what that means? To encroach so recklessly into the wolves’ den? It means he’s going to war and if that’s the case, I’ll meet him accordingly.”

Another look passes over Allison's face; one that Derek can’t really put a name to, before she settles again on anger. “Is that a warning?”

Stiles laughs, a dark rumbling sound that sends shivers down his spine and makes Allison shift backwards. “Oh no, that’s a promise.”

~

“Are you okay?” Derek asks when he pulls out of the parking space and heads back to the Stilinski house. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles assures, brushing her fingertips against the outside of his wrist before leaning over to fiddle with the radio stations. “I just wasn’t expecting to have the Argents catching on too quickly. I thought we were doing well in trying to keep them under the radar. I guess not.”

They had met after dark, every day since Erica, Boyd and Isaac had been bitten. Stiles had given them some of her clothing to have on them while they were in school to anchor themselves until they found their own, because they couldn’t be seen for the very reason someone might question it. She even stayed at their houses, gently coaching them to bring on the Shift before easing it away again.

The full moon had been hard for them, but with Derek and Scott helping, Stiles had managed to make it through the night with her newly bitten Betas, semi unscathed. Though, Isaac still had to be subdued with more than a little force from Stiles.

“We tried and that’s what matters. There’s nothing we can do about it now.” he replies, slapping her hand lightly from the stereo. He changes the subject, when Stiles frowns deeply, mouth opening to protest. “My car, we listen to my choice of radio station.”

She barks out a laugh, and while dodging his swipes expertly, changes the station to one that blares some pop tune. “When are you going to let me drive the Camaro? You let Scott do it, why not me?”

“You _were_ supposed to drive it then, you obviously didn’t take the opportunity and now it’s gone.” Derek says, grimacing at the music, but grins when there’s a groan coming from the other side of the car.

“ _You_ try saying no to his puppy dog eyes!” Stiles pouts, giving him said look. “He wouldn’t shut up until I handed the keys over.”

“Pushover.” He teases.

The sound of jaws snapping together makes the grin on his face just that wider.

~

“So when do we go after Allison’s crazy grandpa?” Erica asks, twirling some blonde hair around her fingers.

“When you feel like you’re not going to eat anyone at any given moment.” Stiles answers, eyes narrowed as Isaac sparred with Scott. “Now get up, it’s your turn to go up against Derek.”

Erica lets out an annoyed huff but does get to her feet, claws and fangs slowly dropping by the time she stands in front of Derek, her eyes void of the golden hue that would flare up if Isaac or Boyd did the same. She isn’t surprised that the blonde had a better control over her wolf counterparts than the boys did. Having a rein over her own body was something Erica had always wanted since her epilepsy ruled her life before, now that she had it though, there wasn’t much that would stop her. 

Erica would make a good Beta, Stiles just knew it.

Derek is the first to charge with a growl and the other she-wolf proves Stiles right, by swooping down low and taking Derek’s legs out from underneath him, before jumping forward to slash at his throat, missing by mere inches.

It’s one of the first manoeuvres Stiles taught her new Betas and she’s happy to see Erica using it almost effortlessly. She had probably sounded like a broken record on repeat earlier today, but she wasn’t going to allow them to walk away without knowing how to defend themselves.

“It isn’t always about brute strength. Strategy and agility will be your defense just as easily as your strength and healing factor.” She had explained, looking Isaac, Erica and then Boyd directly in the eye. “You’ll fight someone _stronger_ than you, _faster_ , hell, maybe even more experienced. And you need to figure out how to either use it against them, or hold them off from making a kill, until back up arrives.”

She gets pulled away from her thoughts when Boyd sits by her side on her backyard porch, panting a little and holding his wrist as it heals. He winces slightly when she reaches for it, but lets out a sigh of relief when she pulls the pain, her own wrist aching from the residual feeling.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over that.” He murmurs, watching as the black lining her veins fades away, twisting his hand around now that it’s completely healed.

Stiles smiles. “When I was younger, my mother used to use it on me for every accidental bone breaking incident I found myself in. Pretty sure werewolves made the term ‘kiss it better.’ ”

Boyd grins and leans against her side heavily, an action that makes Stiles grin herself, steeling her body to take his weight. It had only been three weeks since the bite had taken, but they were already beginning to feel the bonds between one another. Derek included.

She wouldn’t mention it, to him or anyone else, but he was calmer around them, more likely to smile than scowl or growl. He had even proven it himself, when she was faced with Allison in the grocery store that day, and he had stepped up behind her, readying himself for a fight, readying himself to fight for his Alpha. They’d never replace the Pack he had lost, but maybe, it would be a solace that he wasn’t alone anymore, and that was enough for Stiles at the moment, and it seemed for Derek as well. 

Boyd then lets out a sigh as they watch Derek pin Erica to the ground with a snarl, a clawless hand wrapped around her throat. “He’s too good.” He tells her.

“He’s had a lot more practice than you three. You’ll get better over time.” She soothes, before calling out, “Dead, Erica.” 

The blonde taps the ground twice in secession before accepting the hand that Derek holds out for her, knocking their shoulders together when she tells him that she’ll “knock him on his ass, just you wait.”

“That’s it for today,” Stiles says, standing to her feet, ending the slapping contest that began between Isaac and Scott with a half-hearted glare. They shuffle in embarrassment under her gaze. “We can order some pizzas if you guys are hungry and staying.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at her and doesn’t move towards the house when everyone else does. “And what about our fearless Alpha? Isn’t she going to train?”

She ignores the way she wants to rumble her approval at the use of ‘our’ and raises her own eyebrow. “Don’t do you remember the last time you went up against me?”

“Rematch?” He says, tilting his head slightly and smirking at her, arms crossing over his chest.

Erica looks between the two of them with glee, Isaac looks intrigued and Boyd is only amused. Scott is outright grinning as he ushers them to sit down a few metres away from Derek, whispering to them that, “this is going to be _so_ good, dude, you don’t even know.”

Stiles tries not to smirk herself, as she steps off the porch and walks over to stand directly in front of him. She rolls her shoulders and shakes out her arms, feeling excitement bubble in her stomach at the idea of letting her control slip a bit.

Derek doesn’t wait until she nods that she’s ready, charging at her, teeth bared and a growl echoing in his chest. Stiles braces herself, centres herself by bending her knees before she’s batting one clawed hand away and grabbing the other in a tight grip, and while using Derek’s momentum, twists her body around, until his chest lines her back, before yanking on his arm and throwing him over her head.

He lands with a harsh exhale pushed from his lips and before he can so much as twitch, Stiles has her sneaker pressed against his throat. 

“Do you yield?” She asks, allowing her eyes to change from their usual brown to crimson.

Derek bares his throat, Stiles catching the flash of blue in his own eyes as one hand reaches out and taps the grass twice in defeat. 

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Scott says after a long moment, a pout pulling at his mouth.

“ _Anticlimactic_?” Erica scoffs, looking at him incredulously. When he shrugs at her, she throws her hands in their direction with a flourish. “She tossed him over her head like a bouquet of roses! He _flew_ three feet that way and she’s standing over him in one blink of an eye! If I had blinked, I would have missed the whole thing!”

“The first time was so much better.” He argues, shrugging again before getting to his feet and walking towards the house. “There was blood!”

Stiles rolls her eyes as Erica splutters after him, Isaac and Boyd following them with a shake of their heads, though they’re grinning. She looks back down at Derek, who looks more than okay for a guy that has a foot pressing against his throat. She hadn’t felt it when he moved his hands up to cup the back of his head.

“You gonna let me up?” He asks, glancing down at her ankle and then back up at her, still looking all for the world relaxed.

Blushing slightly, Stiles pulls back quickly and holds her hand out for him, Derek accepting it and pulling himself up onto his feet. Their bodies are closer than she’s actually expecting and they stumble, Derek’s hands coming around her waist to keep her standing, his touch burning through the material of her shirt.

“Ah, sorry,” she says, taking two steps back, feeling her cheeks burn brighter.

Before she can figure out what that was all about, he loops an arm around her shoulders and tugs her into his side. “I’ll get you next time.” He tells her, giving her a gentle shake.

Stiles snorts and bats his stomach with the back of a hand, embarrassment now forgotten. “Please, if I recall, I’m two for two. You’ve got to catch up _first_ , before you win.”

Derek growls playfully at her and Stiles, while grinning, shoves him to the ground before taking off up the stairs to the back door, Derek’s curses and footsteps following after her.

~

“Hey, we need to talk.” Stiles tells Isaac one night when he’s staying over so they can study together. It’s just the two of them in the house, until Derek comes back from his run and her father from work, so she thinks it’s a good time as any to speak to him.

“Um, about what?” He questions, looking nervous all of a sudden.

Sighing, she pats the seat on the couch next to her, waits until he does before reaching out slowly, so he has enough time to reject her, before curling around him when he doesn’t.

Isaac had gotten passed a few stepping stones in regards to touch when it came to them and Stiles is so proud of how her Pack has helped their Packmate. He has his moments still, something Stiles knew wouldn’t just disappear overnight, where someone moved too quickly for his liking and sending him into a near panic. But progress was progress, no matter how small.

“It’s about your father.”

He goes still in her arms and Stiles lets out a rumble, tries to soothe the steadily rising of his pulse. She runs a hand through his curls, lets him calm down enough until he finally nods his assent.

“You know you can emancipate yourself from him?” She says, just rips the band-aid off in one fell swoop. Maybe it isn’t the right way to handle a situation like this, but she’s never once claimed she was an Alpha that knew everything. “You wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore if you didn’t want to. My father can help with any legal proceedings and Melissa has offered up her and Scott’s house if you’d like to stay there.”

Isaac shudders in her arms and she tightens her grip, lets him turn until his face is pressed into her throat. 

“I’m not telling you this so you can feel pressured and I’m not going to order you to.” She continues, gently. “I just want you to know that there’s an option there for you. I know he still hurts you and I’m not going to lie to you, it’s taking everything I have not to hurt him back, but if you don’t want to change how things are, that’s your choice. You just don’t have to wait until you’re eighteen to get away.”

There’s a hot dampness that begins to pool over her collarbone, the scent of salt hitting her nose. She grits her teeth at having been the one to make her Beta cry, but holds on just that tighter.

“He never used to be like this,” he sobs, body shaking. “He never – he was _happy_ before.”

Isaac cries and growls, holds onto Stiles until the tears stop, until the hitches of breathe smooth over. She’s rubbing his back in small circles, humming the song her mother used to sing when she was younger, the same one her father uses on her now if she loses her control. 

She looks up when Derek slips into the room, hair damp and shirt sticking to his skin in some patches across his torso. He’s just had a shower recently, but she hadn’t seen him come through the front door. His eyes dart towards the back door and she smiles in thanks at his subtle way of giving them privacy.

His eyes are filled with concern though, Isaac being closer to the older werewolf than any other in the Pack. She’s not sure if it’s because he reminds Derek of someone before the fire happened, or if it’s because of some other bond they share, but she nods anyway, lets him know it’s okay to step closer.

Derek takes her permission and slips easily between her and Isaac and the couch, one of his arms tucking under her head, a leg thrown over Isaac’s and his arm a heavy weight over his back. His chest is pressed firmly against her side and Stiles feels another rumble slowly begin at being surrounded so completely.

“Dad used to drink heavily after my mother was killed. Would go days without eating food, never spent any time at home because he was sleeping in his office at the Station. I’d go weeks without seeing him, without smelling his scent.” Stiles murmurs after a few minutes of silence. She lets out a weak, watery laugh. “It got so bad, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to pick his scent up in a crowd without the copious amounts of whiskey in his system.”

Isaac nosed at her collarbone while Derek tucked his behind her ear, his mouth brushing against the skin of her throat. “How’d he get better?”

“My mother was the Alpha before me. When she died, the mantle was passed down to me. I was taken by four Hunters one Tuesday afternoon, three weeks after my mother took her last breathe, and I was held captive for two. They thought I was just a Beta, and wanted my Alpha to take the bait and come looking for me.”

“Two?” Derek asks, pulling back to glance down at her, a frown tugging at his lips. “As in two _weeks_?”

Stiles nods and closes her eyes, feels her heart stutter at the memory of complete terror she had felt back then. She had been thirteen, nearly fourteen, a newly turned Alpha and completely alone. She knew her father hadn’t abandoned her, not intentionally, but that didn’t stop the pulse of hurt echoing in her chest as days slowly turned into nights, with no righteous parental fury in sight.

“How’d you get away?” Isaac asks.

“Broke my wrists and slipped the chains wrapped around them off while the Hunters were asleep.” She whispers, seeing that night play out in still frames behind her lids. “I slit their throats before they could so much as wake up and scream. I stumbled home and found Dad passed out in the kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.”

Derek whines high in her ear and Isaac’s grip around her waist tightens again.

“I – I lost control and pushed him out of the chair he was slumped in, sent him skidding into the fridge.” Stiles confesses, breathing in shakily, eyes fluttering open so she wouldn’t see that particular scene behind her eyelids. “Scared Dad near to death when he woke up to see an Alpha werewolf standing over him, bloody and wearing tatted clothes, completely Shifted and snarling.”

She takes a deep breathe in and tries not to let the guilt she feels when she thinks of that night. She had shouted some terrible things to her father, snarled at him that she wished he was the one that died instead of her mother and other unforgiveable things she can’t bear to think again.

Stiles ended up sleeping in the bathroom that night, refused to open the door for her father, Scott or Melissa – who had been going through the messy divorce from Raphael and honestly had no time with Stiles' rambunctiousness – the next as well. She waited until everyone left the house before venturing out to grab a spare change of clothes before washing the grime, sweat and blood off her body, scrubbed until her skin was red and raw.

Food had been her next priority, only being fed scraps to keep her alive until they were satisfied with whatever it was they were looking for before they decided to kill her. She just wasn’t expecting to step into the kitchen and find her father patiently waiting for her, looking pale and grief stricken, but _completely sober_.

“Kiddo,” he whispered, voice cracking as he stood up, tears beginning to slide down his face. “Baby, _I am so sorry_. There’s nothing I can say to make _any_ of this okay. I can’t – I nearly lost you too and I wouldn’t have noticed and – It should have been me – you were right, it should have been me! Your mother _never_ would have –“ 

Sobs had erupted from his mouth as he took two steps toward her before crumpling to his knees, Stiles moving to catch him but ending up being pulled in, his arms tight enough to squeeze the air out of her lungs. They had cried a lot that night, and the guilt and hurt didn’t just disappear like that. They had to relearn how to be a father and daughter again, how to be there for one another when they needed it, how to properly mourn their Alpha, mother and wife without abandoning each other.

“What I’m saying is,” Stiles says into Isaac’s curls. “Is that sometimes death puts people on a cliff’s edge. Whether they jump or not isn’t the question. The question is, when they do jump, do they let themselves drown or do they fight the currents and swim ashore.”

“Dad isn’t like the Sheriff. He’s never going to change,” Isaac replied, shaking his head. His breathe hitches in his chest as he pulls away far enough to glance at her. “I’d like to believe he would, but he won’t. Can I – can I think about it?”

Stiles smiles softly and nods. “Take as much time as you want. Like I said, whatever you choose, it’s your choice and we’ll support it.”

~

Isaac becomes a legal adult in the eyes of the law two Sundays after their conversation. His smile is brittle but real, as Scott pulls him into his, no, _their_ , house with all the enthusiasm of a puppy, Stiles, Melissa, her father and Derek following after them, chuckling.

Stiles stops Derek from entering the house though, asks him if he wants to take a ride somewhere. 

Her father glances over his shoulder and sees that she and Derek are at the bottom of the porch steps. He stops as well, ushering a confused Melissa into the house before he gives them what she dubs as the ‘Sheriff Stare.’ He takes in the grin that slowly takes over Derek’s face and at the way her eyes are probably tinted crimson.

“Where are you two off to?”

“Nowhere,” they both say at the same time, trying to look innocent.

They get a raised eyebrow and another look shared between them before he shakes his head, an amused and knowing look playing on his face. “No blood and dead bodies, got it?”

“No promises,” she replies, grinning herself, fangs pressing into the flesh of her bottom lip.

~ 

“Do you understand me?” Stiles asks, glaring.

Derek’s growling from behind her, prowling back and forth like a tiger that’s caged.

Isaac’s father is curled up on the kitchen floor, back pressed against a cabinet and his hands held out in front of him, as if that would ward her or Derek away.

“ _What did I say_?” She snarls, crouching down low, weight even on the balls of her feet and crawling forward onto clawed hands. She hears Derek’s growls grow that much louder. “Tell me!”

“I won’t contact Isaac again, not unless he does it first and only on his terms!” The older Lahey yells, heart rate skidding before slamming forward into a staccato rhythm. “I won’t even look in his direction if I see him, _I promise_ , just don’t kill me, please!”

Stiles stands up abruptly and smooths out the wrinkles of her shirt. “I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement. And remember, if you mention this little conversation, _to anyone_ , we’ll pay you another visit and I won’t try to restrain myself or my friend behind me, am I understood?”

Her eyes flash when there’s only silence and then he’s nodding quickly, to the point where he nearly brains himself on the cabinet behind him.

“We’ll let ourselves out. You have a good day now.” She smiles politely before turning to walk out, Derek letting out one last growl in the man’s direction before following suit.

“That was _awesome_!” Stiles says, when they’re in the car and driving back to the McCall house for lunch. She had texted the others to let them know when and where, getting all happy replies and a few that asked if something was needed.

“It actually was,” Derek laughs lightly, glancing at her with a smile before turning his gaze back onto the road. “You’re actually kind of terrifying.”

She laughs herself and closes her eyes, feeling happy. Her Pack was safe and whole now that Isaac was staying in an actual home. Her father and Melissa had more children than they could ask for. Erica had found a new confidence in herself that let the whole world know she was here and she wasn’t going to be quiet. Scott was just happy that everyone else around him was, Boyd wasn’t forgotten or left in the shadows and Derek – 

Derek has a Pack again.

It sends a thrum of pride through her at being able to give him that. If there was anyone that needed a Pack, a family, it was Derek. They’d never be the Hale Pack, but they were just as good in another way. They all chose one another, even if she was the common link between them, they all chose to stay together. Except, of course, for the werewolf she was currently staring at.

“Would you accept me as your Alpha?” She blurts out. 

She has a moment where panic grips at her heart, but she doesn’t regret asking. She might after she’s told no, but right this second, she’s feeling brave.

The older werewolf chuckles and shakes his head. He pulls to a stop at a red light and takes the chance to look at her. He gives her a soft, fond smile, one she’s never seen on his face before, before his eyes are flaring up blue and says, “I already have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was a big chapter. Nearly 5k of word vomit lol. IDK why I bother anymore.


	5. Chapter Five.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little more intense and there's a rave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** there's another panic attack in this fic, so please tread lightly if you're easily triggered. 
> 
> I'm a little nervous with this chapter, you'll probably realise why when you finish, but yeah. 
> 
> Enjoy babies!

~

Derek is standing in line, waiting to pay for the gas he's just pumped into the Camaro, when his phone buzzes. 

Juggling slightly with the items in his hands, he pulls it out of his jeans and glances at the screen, smiling when he sees a bunch of texts from Stiles. 

_Don't forget the milk!_

_Make it two bottles too._

_Between you and my Dad, it's a wonder I manage to get any for my Fruit Loops!_

Glancing down at the bottle he has in one hand and the other wedged between his side and arm, his smile turns into a grin as he replies back. 

_Because God forbid you don't get your Fruit Loops._

_Oh you got jokes now? How about this for a joke? I'm turning that lasagna into a vegetarian one, and you get to tell Dad why he's not eating meat tonight._

Like Stiles knew, Derek isn't laughing now. Quite the opposite in fact. 

Grumbling to himself about smartass Alphas, Derek pays for the gas and bottles of milk, before walking out of the gas station. He stops short though, when he finds three men standing around his car, the smiles on their faces nothing friendly. 

Gritting his teeth, he walks over and while ignoring them, opens the passenger side door and places the milk bottles on the seat. He's roughly pulled away then and held into place by rough hands, as his door is slammed shut. 

A growl rumbles in his chest as Chris smiles at him from over the hood of the car. 

"This is a beautiful piece of machinery," the Hunter whistles, gazing over the Camaro. "Guess that insurance money came in handy."

Derek bares his blunt teeth in his direction and gets a gun pressed into his side for it. 

"Yeah, eleven people, wasn't it?" Chris continues walking from one side of the car to where Derek is. "That would rake in a lot of money. You've got yourself set up pretty nicely."

"No thanks to your pyscho sister," Derek growls out, clenching his hands into tight fists. 

Chris suddenly glares before he smooths his features over. "Your family's name used to mean something, you know. Used to mean power, almost royalty in the other eyes of werewolves. Now look at what's left of the Hales, hiding behind a sixteen year old girl."

"Stiles is actually seventeen."

Like the rest of the Hunters, Derek's head snaps to the right and sees the Sheriff standing there, dressed in his uniform and frowning hard at the scene playing before him. 

Derek is a little confused at how he didn't hear John's heartbeat until now, but he isn't surprised. He's found that he should never underestimate anyone with the surname Stilinski. 

"What's going on here?" John asks, taking a step towards them. 

"Just having a friendly chat." The Hunter on Derek's left replies. 

The Sheriff raises an eyebrow at him before taking an obvious look at where Derek is being held in place. 

"Let him go." John says, staring the Hunters down. He moves a hand over to his gun when no one moves. "Or else I'm gonna start shooting, regardless of the gas around us."

Derek is shoved away hard and it's only by sheer will that he doesn't stumble. He never once turns his back on the Hunters, but he hurries to place himself at John's back. 

"Now, this is what's going to happen," he says. "You're going to stay away from my Pack and I don't arrest you for harassment and assault charges, before letting my Alpha deal with you. Do I make myself clear?"

The threat is said so pleasantly, Derek is a little lost for words. 

One of the other Hunters sneer. "You're scum for willingly following these beasts. They need to be put down like the animals they are."

Derek bares his fangs in his direction as John snarls out, "Watch your fucking mouth!"

The Sheriff's body language has turned to steel. Sure, he was tense before, but after that comment about werewolves, his entire demeanour changed. He shifted his stance wider in front of Derek, his knees bent slightly and his shoulders stiff, despite his hands relaxed by his sides. He was readying himself for a fight. 

Derek lets his claws slowly slip into place, readying himself as well. 

Chris sees the display and abruptly stands from where he was leaning against Derek's car and waves his soldiers back. 

"We'll be on our way then, Sheriff." He says, before turning his gaze over to Derek. "Nice chat, Derek. We should have another, real soon."

"Our Alpha would tell you otherwise." John snaps. 

They don't move from their positions until they watch Chris and his men get into a car and drive off. Then Derek has John whirling around to face him, eyes filled with concern. 

"You alright?" He asks, wrapping a hand around one of his shoulders. 

Derek nods, smiles a little in thanks and gets a gentle shake to his shoulder in return. "How'd you know I was here?"

The Sheriff gestures to where he's parked the cruiser only a few feet away. "Saw the Camaro first, decided to check up on you."

Derek feels the same confusion he had, when he didn't hear the older man's heartbeat, come back. He can hear it now as sure as he's breathing, so why not when he was approaching?

Derek was probably too focused on Chris. 

"Come on, let's go home. Stiles will start blowing up our phones if we're not there in the next ten minutes." John says, using the same palm on his shoulder, to pull and then push him towards his car. "I'll see you soon."

~

The rest of the Pack was at her house, another dinner in the works, when Stiles hears the front door open, and then her father and Derek's voices flit through the house. 

She smiles happily, feels something settle in her at having everyone safe here in her den. 

And that was the exact second she smelt wolfsbane and the last tinge of her father's fury. 

She's crowding him and Derek against the door a few seconds later, making sure they're okay first, before a growl begins to echo in her chest when she orders, "Dining table, now!"

After they explain what had happened, Stiles feels a certain calm wash over her. She takes it all in, lets it sink down right to her bones. And then she's jumping to her feet with a deep snarl. 

"I'm going to rip his throat out!"

Erica and Isaac flinch and Boyd shies away from her slightly. She feels bad for throwing around some serious Alpha vibes, but her anger outweighs that by so much more. 

"Stiles," her father sighs from across the table. "Sit down. Nothing happened."

"I don't care if nothing happened, it's probably because there was an officer of the law present," She says, with a glare. "But regardless of that fact, Argent cornered a member of my Pack with the intention to _do_ something."

"Look, I'm okay." Derek pipes up, staring at her intently from between Melissa and her father. "Your father got there just in time."

"And what would have happened if he hadn't shown up at all?" Isaac murmurs, fidgeting. He looks a little panicked at the idea. "They could have hurt you or something."

"In front of a gas station?" Scott asks, frowning. 

"They didn't care that they were surrounding him there, it wouldn't surprise me." Boyd says. 

"It's done," her father states, silencing everyone with a look and then connecting their gazes together. "Do I make myself clear?"

"I told Derek that if Chris or Victoria touched him, they'd answer to me. So now they will." Stiles growls, her eyes flaring up crimson. "You don't get to make that decision, not in this."

"As your father and Sheriff, I am." He replies, tilting his head up in authority. "It's done. They know who I am and what I'll do if my Pack is threatened, so they'll keep to themselves for now. Back down."

Stiles wants to fight her father on this, she does. Everything inside her is thrashing against the idea of having someone order her, an Alpha, around. 

Taking a deep breathe in, she lets her eyes slip shut as she takes in the Pack's scent, and lets it ground her, anchor her in place. 

"Fine," she concedes, despite her gums pricking with the urge to drop her fangs. "But if I hear anything else about my Pack being attacked in any way, shape or form, I'll bite first, then ask questions later."

She opens her eyes and stares her father down, silently letting him know that she's doing this for him. 

He holds her eyes for a moment before he dips his head in submission.

No one moves for a moment, everyone silent as they stare at one another. 

"So, what's to eat?" Her father asks, clapping his hands. 

Stiles watches Derek noticeably shift his weight awkwardly beside him. 

Seeing it too, her father turns and looks at him. He raises an eyebrow. "Something you wanna tell me, son?"

"Not particularly," Derek replies, averting his gaze. "How do you feel about vegetarian food?"

Stiles just laughs at the groan that comes from her father and moves towards the kitchen, Melissa and Boyd following without prompt, to help out with the several dishes of beef lasagna she had baking in the oven. 

~

Stiles shouldn’t have expected that the calm that had taken up in Beacon Hills would last. There was always going to be a moment where everything went to shit and now was that turning point, in the form of a text.

“Scott, I can’t let you do this.” Stiles says, her hand wrapped around his bicep to keep him in place. “It’s too dangerous, dude. This has terrible idea written all over it.”

“But it’s Allison,” he whispers, looking at her with pleading eyes. “She _texted_ me, Stiles. She texted me because she wants to talk and if I have to meet her at this rave party tonight, I will. I _have_ go!”

She wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he can go, but it _isn’t_ okay and he _can't_ go. She’s an Argent, daughter to some fearless Hunters and granddaughter to someone who’s sent shivers down even the most badass of werewolves. 

“I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. You are a _werewolf_ , she a werewolf _hunter._ Do you not see how badly this can go?” 

“But she wasn’t trained to be a werewolf hunter!” Scott protests, getting up to his feet to pace along the couch she’s seated in. 

“Doesn’t mean she wasn’t trained at all!” Stiles snaps, holding off from grabbing at her hair to yank on it. “She knows how to do archery, _we both know of how good she is with a bow_ , and she’s great at self-defence. You can’t go, Scotty, I’m not going to let you.” 

Scott suddenly stills, his back stiff and his shoulders straight. He glances at her before turning his gaze away to the floor. “Is that an order?” 

She swallows around the lump that’s formed in her throat, stands and makes her way over to him. She reaches out and draws him in, presses their foreheads together and murmurs. “I don’t want to, Scott, but I _will_ if I have to.” 

She’s shoved away roughly, enough so that Derek, who had been quietly watching the exchange by the kitchen doorway, leaps forward with a growl, and only stopping in his tracks when she shakes her head at him. 

“You don’t understand,” Scott tells her, “I love her and she loves me. If you can’t accept that, then I don’t know where that leaves me; in your Pack or not.” 

Scott disappears seconds later, the front door slamming behind him, the silence almost as deafening as his ultimatum. 

Her chest feels like its being crushed from all sides and she wraps her arms around her stomach to ward off the feeling. It doesn’t help at all, her breathing goes shallow, and she can’t get enough air into her lungs, because all she can think is _Scott is gonna get himself killed_ and _can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!_

Strong arms swallow her up until she’s pressed against a solid chest, fingers linking with hers over her stomach. 

“Feel my chest move and try and match it, come on.” Derek tells her, voice soft and smooth in her ear. “There you go, keep going.”

Stiles stands there, pressed against Derek until her chest doesn’t feel like it’s rattling and her heart isn’t beating a wild tattoo into her ribs. She goes limp in his hold, lets him pull her to the couch and rearrange them until she’s tucked into the back of the couch, his body covering hers. 

“He’s going to get himself killed and us in the process.” Derek murmurs between them. “He’s not thinking with his head.”

She sighs heavily, feels completely exhausted and at her wits end. She shifts closer and presses her nose into Derek's neck, shivering slightly when he bares more of his throat to her. “He’s my best friend. I just want him to be happy.”

“He might be your best friend, but he’s also your _Beta._ He needs to think clearly for once and see the danger that he’s playing with and how that affects all of us.”

Stiles sighs again and clenches her jaws so tightly, she fears for her teeth. “What am I gonna do?” 

“Get dressed,” Derek says, rolling off the couch. He holds his hand out for her to grab when she looks at him blankly. “Gotta make sure the idiot doesn’t get himself killed so, it looks like we’re going to a rave party. I’ll text the others to meet us there.”

~

“This doesn’t sound good, Kiddo.” Her father tells her over the phone, as she and Derek speed through the streets in the Jeep.

“Which is why we’re going, Dad.” She says, leaning a little closer to where Derek is holding her phone in his hand. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“I’ll let Mel know too.” He sighs heavily. “She isn’t going to like this at all. Are you sure I can’t just come in with a few Deputies and shut the place down?”

“Scott’ll hate me if I ruin his chances with Allison.” Stiles says, shaking her head, even though her father can’t see it. “He’s already mad at me now. No, let me handle this and I’ll give you an update when I get home.”

She sees Derek frown in the corner of her eye but ignores it. She doesn’t need to hear or see his disapproval right now.

“I’m home in three hours, if I don’t hear from you or any of the Pack by the time I get home, I’m coming there with guns blazing. Understood?”

“Yes, Dad, I understand.”

~

Frustration buzzes under her skin, deep down to her nerves and bones. Stiles can't scent or hear Scott anywhere, no matter how hard she tries. It's slowly turning her frustration into desperation, heavy and thick in her belly. She just _needs_ to find him and make sure that he's okay, even if he didn't want her to. 

This was the address Stiles seen in the text Allison sent Scott, and while it was packed with people in all types of undress, none of them were the person she was currently looking for. 

It was dark in the warehouse, save for strategically placed, bright strobe lights that streaked over the concrete walls and ceiling. Bodies pressed against one another, glowing paint dancing over bared skin, the scent of arousal and sweat high in the air. The music blaring through the speakers was full of bass and fast beats, pulsing heavily through her and vibrating the floor underneath her sneakers. 

Stiles glances over to her left and catches sight of Erica, Boyd and Isaac dancing together, both boys wrapped around the she-wolf in a sloppy three way, their bodies entwined. They look like everybody else that's here, just wanting to have fun and let loose, but the way their eyes flash molten in her direction, tells her they were ready and alert, willing to fight if their Packmate needed them to.

She stops in the centre of the makeshift dance floor, feels Derek follow suit at her back, watching curiously as she tilts her nose up to the ceiling, closes her eyes and tries to concentrate. 

"I can't sense him," Stiles tells him, a whine at the back of her throat. "I _know_ he's here because his scent was outside the warehouse, but then it just vanishes before he gets inside." 

Derek crowds into her space, equal parts to comfort her and to let the person that barrels towards him, through. "He's here, we know that. We've seen Allison."

"That doesn't make me feel better." She replies, fists balling up at her sides, claws biting into her palms.

Yes, they’d seen the Huntress but she had been with Lydia and Jackson, the smile playing on her face small but real. She didn’t smell like tears or misery, there was almost a tentative happiness about her. She wasn’t fidgeting or darting her gaze around the large room, as if looking for someone that wasn’t there, but her attention was solely on the red head beside her.

Besides, if Scott had seen her, Allison’s night would have ended in some fight or disagreement, like the many before since finding out that Scott was a werewolf, not in her actually having a good time with friends. 

Which meant Scott hadn’t met up with Allison. It means he might not actually have made it to the warehouse when he left her house. The thought makes her squeeze her hands tighter, get claws slicing the skin of her palms.

It's Stiles' turn to step closer to Derek, glaring at the person who narrowly misses giving her a nose bleed with a stray elbow. She goes to follow them, to do what she isn't sure, maybe take her anger with Scott's gullibility out on them, but is stopped when two rough hands cup her elbows and slide down to cover her own. She watches as fingers much larger than hers, steeple with hers, not bothered at all by the stickiness of blood that paints her palms.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he soothes, squeezing their hands together. “We know he’s around here somewhere, so all we’ve gotta do now, is have the others stay here while we search around the warehouse.”

Stiles takes a deep breathe in, takes the comfort Derek is giving her by leaning against him, long enough that he has to steady himself to take her weight, before she’s nodding and stepping away. 

“Do it,” she tells him, nodding with a rough jerk of her chin. “Don’t have Erica, Isaac and Boyd split up; they _stay together_. Then come find me, I don’t want you alone either.”

Derek nods himself before disappearing from sight, not before reaching out to brush fingertips against her arm.

She takes another steadying breathe in before straightening her shoulders, eyes scanning the crowd around her again, mentally mapping out how she’s going to navigate her way back. 

Moving forward, she makes her way slowly through the writhing sea of bodies and dodging interested people who try and pull her in.

Stiles is thinking about maybe doubling back since Derek hasn’t come back yet, when an unfamiliar body presses up against her back, arms snaking around her waist to keep her in place. She stills for a second before a growl edges its way into her voice.

“You have four seconds to let go,” she warns, “Before I force you to.”

“Don’t be like that, sweetie. Let’s dance.” The person purrs in her ear.

“You heard her,” another voice snarls, and Stiles sees a flash of icy blue before the body is shoved roughly away from her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The guy snaps, squaring his shoulders like he’s reading himself for a fight.

Derek steps in front of her and smiles with a lot more fang than necessary, added with another flash of his eyes. “She’s mine. Back off.”

Stiles, who stood slightly at Derek’s left shoulder, watches in amusement as the colour drains from the guy’s face then tucks tail and runs. They stand in silence, before Stiles nudges at Derek’s back to grab his attention. 

He turns and faces her, looking entirely human with his eyebrows raised in question.

“I’m yours, huh?” She asks, feeling a grin tug at her lips and trying to keep it at bay. She doesn’t bother when a blush blooms over stubbled cheeks, Derek ducking his head down and purposely avoiding her eye. “That’s a first.”

“I didn’t – I just meant -- you’re _my Alpha._ ” Derek explains weakly, shrugging unsurely. He’s trying not to fidget under her gaze, she can tell. “I wasn’t trying to say –“

Feeling a little brave, she reaches out a hand and links their fingers together, asks. “If I’m yours, then that would make you mine, correct?”

He swallows, looking hopeful and terrified in equal measures as he stares at their linked hands. “I want to say yes, but the age difference is very concerning.”

Stiles smiles at him gently and tightens her grip slightly. “We’re just talking, Derek. I’m not going to jump your bones and I know you’re not going to do anything either. I just want a confirmation or rejection, just so I’m not second guessing myself, but that’s all.”

Derek glances at her before taking a step forward until his boots are touching the toes of her sneakers. It should be awkward, what with Stiles taking a leap off that cliff they’re both standing at, but she feels calm, not at all willing to rush Derek for an answer. Especially with the way he hasn’t released her hand but instead, placed their entwined fingers between them, pressed firmly into his chest.

He bumps their foreheads gently together before he’s pulling back far enough for their eyes to connect.

"You don’t need to second guess. There’s something there, something between _us_ and it shouldn’t even be there in the first place, but there is.”

She nods, unable to stop the smile from taking over her lips. “I feel the same way.”

“Nothing can happen – we can’t do anything. I won’t be Kate.” Derek swallows harshly, looking sick. He goes to pull away and she lets him, only reaching to stop him when he’s at arm’s length.

“Hey, hey,” She soothes, letting a rumble play under her words. “We’re _just_ talking, remember? Just acknowledging what’s there, that’s all.”

He doesn’t look sure, which stings a little, because he should at least trust her word; she’s never lied to him once, since meeting him in the woods that day Scott was looking for his inhaler. She doesn’t blame him though for his doubts, not in the slightest, all that goes rightly to Kate, but she understands. She is seventeen after all, five years Derek’s junior _and_ the daughter of the Sheriff.

She’s opening her mouth to reassure him again that nothing is going to happen, at least for now, until they talk more and establish what they want from the attraction between the two, when she hears something over the bass of the music that’s still playing around them.

“Did you hear that?” Stiles asks, spinning around to scan the crowd.

Derek looks confused at her abrupt change of subject, but he’s tilting his head to the side anyway, ear raised in the air to listen. He shakes his head after a few seconds, eyes silently questioning.

Eyebrows furrowed, she blocks out everything and tries to concentrate. Luckily, she hears the sound again and this time she reacts with a loud snarl that erupts passed her dropped fangs, because she knows what it is now; it’s a wolf’s howl for help.

~

There’s times where Stiles thrives on that glorious feeling of being right, of holding that superiority over someone and knowing there wasn’t a thing the other could do about it. 

Usually it was against her father when he thought she didn’t know about his sneaky servings of greasy food, or when Derek accepted another pie from one of Beacon Hills’ people. This moment however, wasn’t one of them. 

“Get him out of here and take him to Deaton,” She orders Derek, eyes not leaving where Victoria Argent was slowly getting to her feet where she was thrown by Stiles.

The wolfsbane that’s billowing around them is thick as it burns her lungs, but her anger at seeing her Beta motionless and near death, at the hands of the older Huntress, has her fighting against the cloying feeling in her veins. She barely notices Derek disappear with Scott cradled in his arms, only has her sights narrowed on Victoria, a loud snarl echoing in her chest.

Stiles doesn’t let Victoria get her bearings before she’s pouncing, her weight heavy enough to send them crashing back to the floor in a pile of limbs. She lets out a whimper of pain when something sharp is being shoved into her ribcage, Stiles digging her claws into flesh in retaliation, before sinking her fangs into skin and muscle, clenching her jaws hard until she hears the sound of bone snapping.

Rolling away, Stiles clutches at the knife embedded in her side and stumbles away towards the exit, not bothering to glance back behind her.

~

"Oh my God.” She hears from behind her. “Stiles!”

Blonde curls block her eyesight for a moment and Stiles relaxes her body from the tense position she’d taken on. It’s only her Betas, thank Christ. 

Arms wrap around her waist to keep her from falling to her knees, and she lets out a hiss of pain when it jolts the blade still sticking in between her ribs, maybe even embedded in bone, but nods absently when it gets her apologies sprouting in her ear.

“We’ve gotta take it out,” Erica tells them, eyes wide. “We don’t know if there’s wolfsbane on it or not.”

She’s looking at her for permission, hands held inches above the hilt, ready and waiting. Stiles bats her hands away gently and does it herself, not wanting to scare her any more than she already has. Her legs go out from under her at the pain, the ground beneath her jarring her knees when she lands heavily in a pile of limp bones.

"Open the door, Boyd!” Isaac yells, bending down to pick her up.

It’s Erica that does, the other werewolf sliding into the back with his arms held out to receive her, when Isaac passes her along like a football, before he’s jumping into the Jeep, Erica sitting beside him but facing Stiles, her bottom lip rolling between her teeth.

“Where’s Derek?” She asks, trying to ignore the burning sensation in her side. “Scott?”

“He ran to Deaton,” the she-wolf answers, reaching out for Stiles’ hand. “He said he wasn’t going to wait around, said it would be quicker if he was on foot.”

She nods again, tries to even out her shallow breathing, but finds it’s useless. It still feels like she’s seconds away from passing out. Boyd is whining in her ear, his nose tucked in close, as his arms hold on tight as she allows it.

She pats his hand lightly, grimaces at how sticky it is from her blood. “I’m ‘kay, no wolfsbane on the blade, just a normal one. Heal soon.”

"Yeah but you inhaled wolfsbane and that’s gotta slow the process down anyway,” Boyd says, voice cracking. “We could smell it even from outside the warehouse.”

“It’s ‘kay,” she repeats, eyes finally closing. “Gon’ pass out. Don’ freak out.”

~

“Is he gonna be okay, Doc?” She asks, barely able to keep her eyes open.

Her side is healed now thanks to the Veterinarian and she doesn’t feel like her lungs are on fire anymore, but she’s bone tired, head lolling on the ball of Derek’s shoulder, her body curled into the curve of his side. He doesn’t say anything, just takes her weight without protest and keeps her from sliding off the chair into a puddle on the floor.

He had cleaned her up after Deaton had stopped the wolfsbane from spreading in her bloodstream, his touch gentle as he wiped her sides, arms and her hands down. He’d growled at her in warning when she tried to stand up, but helped her to the sink when she expressed bluntly that she didn’t like the taste of blood in her mouth, his arm wrapped securely around her waist as she rinsed it out with water. It would have to do until she got her hands on a toothbrush and some toothpaste.

She had sent Erica, Boyd and Isaac back to her house as well, after they seen with their own eyes that she and Scott were going to be fine. She told them that she’d feel so much better knowing that they were safe in her den with her father and Melissa now off work and at home, waiting for them to arrive. They’d be piled in her bed when she'll get there, and the thought makes her frazzled nerves calm a little.

“He’ll be disorientated for a while, but he’ll be back to his usual self in no time.” Deaton tells her, plucking her out of her thoughts.

“Text Melissa, let her know –” she starts, but a jaw cracking yawn interrupts her.

“Sleep,” Derek urges her, wrapping his leather jacket around her form before settling her back into his side. He’s reaching into the pocket of his jeans next before pulling his phone out to wave it in her line of sight. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, eyes slowly closing. She’s not sure if she’s talking to Derek or Deaton, but she’s glad she hears two answers of ‘you’re welcome’ anyway.


	6. Chapter Six.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threats are made and Pack members are kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay my loves, another chapter of this fic. 
> 
> **WARNING:** There is mention of a character committing suicide, if this is triggering in any way, please tread carefully. It is only mentioned in passing, but like I said, please be careful. Your mental health is important.
> 
> I'll hopefully have a chapter of DNTM up in the next few weeks, so keep your eyes peeled.
> 
> I love you all, stay beautiful and enjoy.

News travels fast in Beacon Hills the next night, that Victoria Argent commits suicide, leaving a distraught husband and daughter in her passing.

Stiles feels guilty and absolutely responsible. No one should have one of their parents taken away from them so quickly, she would know, but she did what she had to do, to protect her Beta. It’s what her father and Derek tell her over and over again that same night, when she has another anxiety attack, fully aware that everything they try to do to calm her down, doesn’t work. She nearly claws Derek up as he fails to wrap his arms around her, ignores her father’s soothing voice attempting to bring her back. It’s only when Scott climbs in through her window and wraps himself around her, does the fuzzy edges around her vision start to melt away.

“I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry.” He whispers, whining as he buries his face into her chest, his arms tight bands around her hips. “I should have listened to you, I never should have walked away. If I didn’t go, this _never_ would have happened. She used Allison’s phone, she tricked me – God Stiles, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t say anything, she _can’t_ , but all she does is hold on and try not to fly apart at the seams.

~

Derek walks into the lounge room three days after the death of Victoria Argent, and finds Stiles curled almost protectively around Scott. He has his face buried tightly against her throat, arms wrapped her middle and their legs tangled together, while she runs a soothing hand up and down his back. He raises an eyebrow, silently questioning, when Stiles subtly points down at her chest, _her heart_ , before clenching her hands into a tight fist.

Heart crushing?

He feels confused for a few seconds before it suddenly becomes clear.

Stiles meant _heartbreak_. Scott and Allison broke up.

Derek doesn’t know how he should feel. On the one hand, he’s relieved that Scott isn’t in any immediate danger now that he isn’t dating a Huntress, the Pack also now at a safe distance alongside Scott. On the other hand though, he feels for the younger werewolf.

He’d been distraught when he and Paige officially broke up for three weeks since he’d been too pig-headed to ask her to the prom. They did end up getting back together again, he even managed to ask her to be his prom date as well.

It's a painful shame that she had died before that could happen.

Silently, he walks over to the couch and squeezes himself between them and the couch, reaching out to soothe Scott in any way he can.

All the young werewolf does is curl further into their touch, Scott wigging an arm around Derek’s rib cage and clenching tightly. 

~

“I want you with someone at all times.” Stiles says that following weekend. “I’m calling the buddy system into order. You do not leave your house without texting someone where you’re going. You don’t leave school alone. If you don’t have a car, someone that does will pick you up and drop you off.”

The Hunters in Beacon Hills have dialled up on their patrols of the Preserve, have even gone to the trouble to set up traps throughout the woods too, now that Victoria Argent is dead. Her father had put a stop to that with a call to the Ranger’s office near the lands, and had quickly discarded all evidence of any setups to take out a werewolf. But the fact that they were so bold in doing that in the first place set Stiles’ teeth on edge. They weren’t trying to be subtle now and she didn’t like that at all.

“That include parents?” Melissa asks, leaning over to steal a piece of bacon off of Boyd’s plate.

He glares playfully at her before quickly nabbing a piece of cut up pancake from her plate, grinning when she cries out in weak protest and pulls it closer to her chest.

They’re all piled into a massive booth in Beacon Hills’ most favourite diner, Sal’s, and they’re noisy and loud, eating too much food and drinking an unhealthy amount of coffee and milkshakes, but it’s something Stiles wouldn’t change for the world.

She smiles at them before nodding at Melissa. “They won’t do anything because of Dad being who he is in the community, but for you as a more than capable nurse, yes, they might try and do something.”

Scott’s low growl beside Erica has the she-wolf shuffling closer to lean her head against his shoulder. He takes her silent comfort with a quick nuzzle to her curls before continuing to eat his own pancakes.

He wasn’t much of a morning person, her best friend, she thinks fondly.

“Still, I wouldn’t mind knowing where you are at all times.” Stiles tells her father, a happy rumble echoing in her chest when he loops an arm around her neck to reel her in, and presses a quick kiss to her temple.

“Always, Kiddo. You know that.” He says into her hair, tilting his head down to nose at her cheek.

“I can start having lunch at the hospital, if you like?” Derek asks Melissa, he’s stretched out in front of Stiles, between Erica and Isaac, his hands resting over his stomach and looking more than content.

”That would be perfect.” The older woman nods at him pleased, before sending a saucy wink over. “You know the other nurses love a good piece of eye candy.”

A bright blush blooms over stubbled cheeks and Stiles isn’t the only one to let out a loud laugh at the sight.

“Mind if I join?” Isaac pipes up, still chuckling. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Agnes again. She has the best stories and the foulest mouth you’ve ever heard.”

He’d been on a few runs with Scott before to deliver food for bribery reasons, – Melissa’s words, not Sitles’ – and ended up befriending a seventy year old woman who’s seen better days, one night.

Melissa smiles. “I think Agnes and I would love that very much.”

He grins happily down at his plate and nibbles on a piece of toast quietly.

“I just need a ride to the ice rink on the weekends,” Boyd says, expertly blocking Melissa’s attempts to steal more bacon. “I’m okay for school since my Mama drops me off and I catch the bus home. I just don’t like waking her up early on her days off.”

“That’s alright son, I’ll pick you up. The rink’s on the way to the Station anyway.” Her father offers, sipping at his coffee. “Just send me your hours and we’ll go from there.”

Boyd nods his head at her father before reaching out to nab another piece of pancake off of Melissa’s plate.

“Erica?” Stiles asks, ignoring the war cry the older woman to her left lets out, the sound of forks sliding against one another in a mock swordfight.

“Well, I’m usually with Boyd at the rink or with Isaac, so I’m all for hanging out with anyone that wants to.” She tells her with a shrug. “I mean, I just need to be picked up and dropped off too.”

“That’ll be me then.” Stiles says, nodding. She suddenly waggles her eyebrows at the blonde. “We can even go over our favourite comic books too if you want.”

“ _Again_?” Isaac asks, scrunching his nose up. “Don’t you get sick of the same spandex, undies wearing idiot that thinks he’s above the law?”

Erica throws a strawberry at his face passed Derek’s nose, scowling when the curly haired werewolf just catches it with his teeth and chews on it obnoxiously. “You _take_ that back, you heathen!”

Stiles is egging Erica on, when she smells it; the stench of wolfsbane thick and acidic in the air, but faintly tainted with the scent of something dead, or on its way. Derek is second, his body going tense and straight from his lazy sprawl and they both turn their gazes to the front door of the diner as Allison walks in and towards the counter.

Boyd, Isaac and Erica go silent, probably feeling the atmosphere change around them and follow her and Derek’s gaze, Scott being the last since he had his nose buried in pancake goodness. He goes to stand when he spots her, but ends up being pulled back down to his seat by Stiles’ father, a quick shake of his head silencing any protests that came to mind.

“Not now, son.” He tells him, nodding his head over in the direction of the counter.

Because standing with Allison is Gerard, who’s just seen them, smirked before whispering that ‘he’d be back’ to his granddaughter and starts heading over.

Stiles tenses, feels a warning growl begin to bubble in her chest, but cuts it short when she feels Derek press their ankles together under the table, and her father wrap an arm around her shoulders. Everyone else has gone back to eating and talking amongst themselves quietly just as Gerard steps in front of them, and it takes all of Stiles not to throw him across the diner to get him away from her Pack.

“Lovely little breakfast setup you have here.” He greets, glancing at them. “Think I might get this with my granddaughter.”

“That does sound lovely.” Her father replies, nodding casually, one hand nursing his coffee while the other was rubbing the skin of her arm soothingly. “I’m sure you’ll need a lot more mouths though to eat what this hoard does in one sitting.”

There’s token protests from everyone, their replies lacking their usual fake bluster and banter.

“Well, I suppose you’re right.” Gerard nods, looking thoughtful. Stiles doesn’t buy it for one second. Especially when he turns his attention to her and says, “We would have had my daughter and daughter-in-law, but they’ve both been murdered. I suppose _you’re_ to be blamed for that, yes?”

Stiles’ eyes flash before she can stop them and she finds herself standing to her full height, shoulders back and her head tilted up in defiance. “I didn’t take Victoria’s life, she did that all on her own. Kate however, I _wish_ I could own up to that.”

She grins around her fangs when Gerard glares venomously.

“Grandpa? What are you doing?”

Stiles and Gerard turn to see Allison standing there, looking seven types of awkward and glancing between them and the Pack. Her eyes linger on Scott before she turns her gaze away, a tremble to her bottom lip.

“Just asking the locals what they like to do for fun, dear.” He replies, smiling at her. Stiles’ stomach turns at how creepy his smile is. “I’m told it’s dangerous to go into the woods, there’s wolves about.”

Stiles grins again, lets her eyes flare up. “You have _no_ idea.”

“Wouldn’t want one to get caught in a trap, would we?” He asks, glaring at her. “It’d be a shame to see one –“ 

“Sliced in half with a sword?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side in fake curiosity. 

She knows she’s startled him in the way he blinks once, then twice, before he easily recovers and that smarmy smile is back on his face. “Sometimes extreme measures are needed.”

“That is probably the one thing we will ever agree on,” Stiles says coolly, gesturing to her Pack, where the wolves are baring their teeth at him. Derek and Erica’s eyes glow their respective molten and icy blue, her father has his gun in plain view sitting in its holster, his hand resting lightly on the magazine. “Now if you don’t mind, we’re trying to have breakfast. You know where the exit is, the door sticks so you’re gonna have to give it a little tug.”

She sits down again and her dismissal irritates him, Stiles can tell, but she doesn’t look up when he walks away with Allison in tow or when she hears said door unstick when it’s tugged. She waits until the stench of wolfsbane and death has cleared, until she doesn’t feel the urge to _protect_ and _fight_ thrash under her skin.

“You okay, Kiddo?” Her father asks, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her further into his side.

It grounds her, even more so when Derek presses their legs together a little harder. They hadn’t spoken about what was said that night at the warehouse, she’s not _sure_ how to bring it up, despite being able to fluster anyone point blank and without so much as a thought, but there’s something that’s shifted between them, she can feel it. She’s also positive that Derek can feel it too.

She leans into the touch, both her father’s and Derek’s, and shakes her head truthfully. “I’ve got a _terrible_ , terrible feeling about this.”

~

Stiles is standing at her locker, swapping books over for her next class, when someone saddles up beside her.

“Whatever is going on with you and McCall, I want in.” Jackson tells her, eyes daring her to disagree.

She raises her eyebrows, but continues on her task for one of her text books. “Jackson, what a lovely surprise. What brings you down to see the commoners today?”

He slams her locker closed, Stiles only just managing to pull her hand away at the last second. It’s only by her ironclad will that she doesn’t bare her teeth at him in anger.

“Don’t screw around!” He snaps, glaring. He’s leaning into her space, trying to look intimidating by using the several inches he has over her. She just looks at him blankly. “It has something to do with Hale and his creepy uncle, doesn’t it? Whatever’s got you lot all skulking around and whatever’s got McCall on First Line. It all goes back before Lydia was bitten to shit by a weirdo and I was scratched up by an animal.”

Stiles’ shoulders stiffen at Derek and Peter’s name but she doesn’t show it. “Just because Scott is on the same level as you now, you think there’s something secretive going on with Scott?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes.

Jackson leans in further, caging her in against her locker. She fights back the growl that’s at the back of her throat. “I _know_ it! He could barely walk up a flight of stairs without sounding like he’s about to die and now he’s doing laps around the field like it’s a stroll in the park. There’s something going on and _I want to know what it is_.”

Fed up, Stiles glares before she shoves Jackson away roughly. “Maybe you’re just losing your touch, Whittemore or maybe, you’re finally getting your comeuppance of being a complete asshat, but whatever it is you’ve imagined about me and Scott is crazy. Now, if you don’t back up, I’m going to break your nose again like I did in third grade.”

Jackson backpedals like she knew he would, he wouldn’t want to risk his face like he did back when they were younger, and sneers. “I’ll figure it out, Stilinski. Whatever you two losers are up to, I’ll find out.”

“Good,” she bites out, turning to walk away. “Then maybe you could fill me in with what it is you think we’re doing. Should be entertaining to tell you you’re wrong and watch you lose your shit.”

~

“Okay, whatever your dumb ass is doing, I need you to stop.” Stiles hisses, sliding in next to Erica, her tray shoved onto the table in front of her.

Scott startles, blinking at her with wide eyes. “Ah, what?”

“Jackson just cornered me and was acting very suspicious of our new and improved lacrosse co-captain!” She continues, her gaze narrowed and her voice low. “So whatever flips and show offy moves you’re doing during practice, _stop_!”

“I don’t know why you quit,” Erica cuts in with a pout, reaching over to steal the apple off of Stiles’ tray. She rubs the skin of the fruit against her top, flashing the room a sight of a leopard printed bra when her top gets tugged down. “Your tits looked so good in those lacrosse tank tops.” 

Stiles looks at her blankly for a few seconds before she very maturely asks the blonde, “You wanted to peel the tank top of me, didn’t you?”

Crimson painted lips pull into a feral grin. “You honestly have no idea how much.”

She stares some more, gaze running down the length of Erica’s body in a leering way before she connects their eyes together. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have chased after Lydia so blindly. We could have been good together.”

“Your loss, Batman.” Erica winks at her and takes an obnoxious bite from the apple. Her eyes dart over at Boyd shyly, a private smile taking over the smirk on her lips. “I’ve got my sights on someone else now.”

Stiles laughs in delight, not at all upset at ‘losing’ Erica, while Isaac and Scott snort loudly. Boyd just smiles back at the blonde just as bashfully.

“But seriously, try and stay under the radar, dude.” She tells her best friend when a comfortable silence takes over the table. “We do not need Jackson in the middle of this, okay? He’d make a terrible werewolf.”

“He probably wouldn’t even turn into a werewolf.” Isaac huffs out, with a roll of his eyes. He then looks thoughtful. “Maybe a snake. _Oh_ , no, he’d be a lizard! A killer, psychotic one.”

“As if we need that right now.” Boyd scolds, throwing a balled up napkin at him from across the table. “Don’t jinx us!”

~

Erica and Boyd suddenly go missing from school, while Coach Finstock had the class running through the Preserve for track. Stiles notices the lack of heartbeats pounding in the back of her mind and stops on the trail, her classmates passing her with idle chatter and laughter.

A whine escapes her when she can’t feel them close by and she’s off the trail and into the trees before her mind has caught up, a mantra of _they’re gone, they’re gone, they’re gone_ , echoing in her head.

She hits the clearing where the class had started and scents them there still strong on the wind, but it’s muddled in with the acidic stench of wolfsbane. Her heart lurches behind her ribs. She takes in the way there’s several sets of footprints of her classmates, but there’s a patch of dirt that’s been disturbed a little farther back, like there was a scuffle. 

Stiles moves over towards it and takes a deep breathe in before zeroing in on the wet dirt at the toe of her sneakers. She touches it and pulls her hand back, growling lowly at the scent that hits her nostrils. It’s blood.

~

“Are you sure?” Scott asks again, eyes wide.

“I can’t sense them anywhere near the school or the woods. Someone has them.” She replies, trying to calm her frantic heart. 

Isaac is vibrating at her side, his hands fidgeting and pulling on her jacket cuff in soft tugs, her arm curled around his back to keep him steady. They’re seated in the cafeteria, an hour after track had finished and Stiles is nearly at her wits’ end. She doesn’t like the dread that’s pooling in her stomach, she doesn’t like not being able to reach inside herself and feel her Pack safe and together.

She’s already alerted her father, Melissa and Derek, with the strict orders of either stay inside at home or in a place where it’s public and well-populated. With her father and Melissa being at work, it soothes her slightly, but having Derek on his own had nearly sent her racing home, but was stopped when the older werewolf offered to go have lunch with Melissa again at the hospital before waiting around until her shift was finished.

“I could smell wolfsbane there, Scott.” Her voice cracks around a whine, Isaac moving in closer to nuzzle her shoulder at the sound. Two ankles wrap around hers under the table and she leans against their comforting touch. “I should have stayed in the last group. This wouldn’t have happened if I was there.”

Coach had split the class into thirds, sending one section of them to go before waiting and doing the same with the next. Isaac and Scott had been in the first, Stiles in the second and Erica and Boyd being in the last.

“Who’s to say that they wouldn’t have taken us instead?” Scott says, trying to make light of the situation.

That doesn’t make her feel any better.

She tries to think what she can do to try and find out where Erica and Boyd are, her mind racing along with her pulse. Stiles happens to glance up just as Scott does, his gaze following after Allison. She goes to reach out and distract him, but instead zeroes in on the other girl’s face, where a noticeable bruise is forming over the apple of her cheek. There’s three thin lines in the centre of it, going from just under her eye and down towards a dimple. Like a scratch from something with claws.

Stiles realises then that the Huntress had been in the last group with Erica and Boyd as well.

“ _Stiles, your eyes_!” Scott hisses, jumping forward to shove his hand over them.

She bats him away, gets to her feet and stalks over to where Allison is now seated next to Lydia and Jackson, doesn’t even announce herself before she’s darting her hand out and wrapping her fingers around Allison’s forearm.

“We need to talk.” Stiles says, digs her fingers in until the Huntress can feel the threat of her claws pricking her skin, before she’s yanking her to a stand. There’s resistance in the way the arm in her grasp is tugged, but that just makes her clamp down around it that much tighter. “Do you really want to do this here, Allison? Because I have no problem with that.”

Allison glares at her but allows her to drag her along, Lydia’s confusion about just what happened echoing after them, while Jackson hissed that he knew something was going on.

They’ve just hit the other side of the cafeteria doors when Allison pulls her arm out of her grip and whirls around to throw a kick in her direction. Stiles blocks it easily, wraps her hand around the Huntress’ throat and pins her to the wall beside the doors.

“You have five seconds to tell me where Erica and Boyd are,” She snarls in her face, “Or I’m sending your father a present with your detached head inside.”

“What makes you think I know where they are?” She chokes out, pulling a blade out from somewhere on her person and tries to embed it into her ribcage.

Stiles knocks it out of the way easily, pins her throat back with her forearm before wrapping her other hand around Allison’s wrists and squeezes hard enough to feel bone shift slightly.

“Where’d you get that scratch from then? I don’t think there’s any tree out in the Preserve that can give you an identical match three times. _Someone_ clawed at you and it was no cat.” She snaps, taking a little pleasure when the other girl winces, either at the pressure around her wrists or for being called out. 

The doors fly open and then Scott and Isaac are standing there, mouths agape. The former looks like he wants to intervene and the latter not sure what to do.

“Stay out of this,” Stiles orders before turning back to face Allison. She clenches her hand around the Huntress’ wrists that much tighter. “If I find out you had _anything_ to do with my Betas’ disappearances, that present idea will become reality.” 

Allison glares but opts not to say anything. Stiles removes herself from her space and gestures with one arm that she’s free to go. The Huntress goes to step away and towards where Stiles had tossed her blade, but stops when a growl echoes in her chest.

“Leave it.” Stiles says, her growl growing in volume when Allison twitches towards it. “I’m sure you have plenty more of those somewhere at home.”

Allison’s hands ball into fists as she pulls herself back up to her full height. She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that she’s surrounded in a half circle made up of werewolves. She just tilts her head up in defiance and continues walking down the corridor. 

“Stiles, I don’t think she had anything to do with Erica and Boyd going missing.” Scott tells her, when the Huntress is out of sight. “She wouldn’t do something like that.”

Sighing, Stiles walks over and picks up the blade with the sleeve of her jacket, just in case the hilt was covered with wolfsbane. She had made that mistake once when she was younger, she wouldn’t make it twice. “Besides the fact she shot you and Derek up with arrows that one time, I hope you’re right.”

“She didn’t do this,” He says firmly. “I know it.”

Giving Allison the benefit of the doubt, she nods. “I want you to stay away from her though. Just until we get them back.”

“But I –“ Scott tries to say.

“That’s an order, Scotty. Do _not_ , under any circumstances, go near her, I’m serious.” Stiles states, eyes flaring up. She turns a crimson glance at Isaac. “The both of you, stay away.”

They nod once then bare their throats to her. “Yes, Alpha.”

She accepts it with a tilt of her chin before she spins on her foot to walk towards her locker. She needs to hide Allison’s blade until after school ends, before she hands it over to Deaton. He’d have more use of it than she would.

As she goes to turn left down another hallway, Stiles hears Isaac whisper behind her, “I jinxed us, didn’t I?”

She doesn’t believe Isaac was at fault, not at all, but they were definitely cursed, one way or another.


	7. Chapter Seven.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to unravel faster than Stiles and the Pack can keep track of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo. I might have dropped the ball with DNTM. RL can be a real bitch sometimes, let me tell you. I promise though, I am back in writing for that fic. I'll finish it, outta spite, if I have to, ahahaha. *cries through the laughter*
> 
> Also, **usual warning for violence and blood**. That should be a disclaimer with my fics, right?
> 
> Stay beautiful babies, and enjoy.

“Boyd and Erica’s parents have been notified.” Her father tells her over the phone. He sighs, his exhale blowing over the receiver heavily. “It’s not good, Kiddo. Feels like everything is building up to something.”

Stiles nods, smiles gently in thanks when Melissa brushes her hand through her curls in gentle strokes. “Yeah, thanks for letting me know, Dad.”

The older woman and Stiles are curled up on the couch, since it’s her day off and Stiles didn’t want her by herself at her house. Isaac and Derek are in the kitchen making lunch while Scott is upstairs trying to figure out how to do Chemistry. Stiles might have quarantined him to make sure he was actually doing it, Melissa watching on in amusement as Scott pouted, but made his way up the stairs similar to one walking to death row.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” her father warns, speaking as her father and not as her Beta. “We’ll get Erica and Boyd back, I promise. We just can’t go around with half formed plans and hope something goes in our favour.”

It’s Stiles’ turn to sigh heavily, her fingers digging hard circles into her eyes. “I get it, Dad. I’ll be on the defensive for now, but if I see or scent them in any way or form, I’m going to cut through anyone that stands in my way to get to them, consequences be damned.”

She’s honestly lucky that Allison hadn’t told her father about their confrontation at the school earlier, or else her house would be riddled with bullets right now. But then again, the day was still young. Who knew how the night would go when there were Hunters in town. It was unfair the rules a werewolf had to follow just to live, while Hunters had more of a free reign on things. If a werewolf so much as breathed in wrong, or hell, _just exist in general_ , they were dead.

Werewolves and people of the supernatural, of course had their own rules but they were stricter. Put in place to keep themselves alive and out of the Hunter’s line of sights. Sometimes it was never enough. The Hale Pack was proof of that.

“I’ll be on the defensive.” Stiles repeats, clenching her jaw.

It’s not a promise on her end, but it’s more than she’s willing to give her father to appease him. She knows he worries and she hates that she’s the one that makes him so, but there’s lines set in stone that sometimes erode away in the presence of others. As her father, he had the authority to forbid her to do something, but as his Alpha, she could ignore him and do what she thought was right and not have to answer to him for it. It had been confusing the first few years as she took her mother’s mantle as Alpha, but they made it work. Back then, when it was just the two of them, they had no choice unless they wanted to lose the other and that wasn’t even an option to entertain.

“I know, Kiddo.” Her father replies, acknowledging the silent compromise. “I’ll be home in five hours, we’ll talk more when I get there, okay?”

“Yeah, Dad. Love you.”

He returns the phrase with a smile in his voice before hanging up. Stiles stares at the phone, chest tightening as her eyes trace over the picture she’s using as her screensaver; it’s the Pack, all the wolves wearing glasses to get away from the eye flare up, plus her father and Melissa all piled into one of the booths at Sal’s.  
They’re all there, together and safe in that photo. Stiles just wishes reality was the same.

Gentle hands cup her chin and turn her away from her phone when the screen goes black. She stares into warm brown eyes and feels a calm wash over her, as Melissa leans in and presses a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling her into a tight hug.

“We’ll find them, okay?” She promises. “They’ll be back here and safe soon enough, then you can tear the people that had them, new ones.”

Stile laughs weakly, feels sheltered and protected in the older woman’s arms. It soothes her, doesn’t rid the anxiety that’s thrashing in her belly, but at that moment, it’s more than enough.

~

“What time did you two get home last night?” John asks him, placing a cup of coffee in front of his nose.

Derek breathes in the strong scent, nearly inhales it through his nose with how far his face is buried over the rim of the mug, before he even realises the older man had asked a question.

“Ah, four?” He replies, finally smiling muzzily in thanks.

John sighs and sits opposite him at the kitchen table, his own mug wrapped in his hands. He glances at the clock on the wall that reads seven thirty and frowns. “You’re all running yourselves haggard trying to find Boyd and Erica. Stiles fell asleep in her bowl the other night.”

He hadn’t been there when it happened, he’d been in the kitchen washing his own at the sink with his eyes half closed, when he heard John’s heartbeat stutter from the living room. He’d watched the end result of John wiping ice-cream off her face, before picking Stiles up and taking her upstairs to her room, the same frown marring his face as their gazes connected.

It’s true that they’re all exhausted, Isaac and Scott had taken up in passing out in either his or Stiles’ bed after coming home early hours in the morning, sometimes curling up between the two of them when they all stumbled into someone’s room and piling on one another, already half asleep.

Stiles pushed herself more than she did the rest of the Pack, sometimes even ordering them to stay home and rest while she went out into the Preserve to look for any signs of Erica and Boyd. (Derek protested every time, telling her if she didn’t want them going around alone, there was no way she was going to be hypocritical and go by herself. She always conceded in the end.) He didn’t know how Stiles was awake even now, her heartbeat drowned out by the shower she’s currently taking, but Derek knows for sure that she can’t keep going on minimum hours of sleep, making sure her school work was up to date, protecting her remaining Betas, all while trying to find her missing ones.

It was more than enough to make even his control to slip, Derek couldn’t imagine how it was faring for his Alpha.

“I’ll keep her home tonight,” Derek tells her father. “Even if I have to sit on her, I will.”

John snorts into his coffee, eyes dancing in amusement. “I can imagine how that’s going to go.”

His face screws up into a wince; so can he. It’s going to be painful and slightly humiliating when Stiles overpowers him and leaves anyway. 

“She needs to sleep. The full moon is coming up next month and if we don’t find Boyd and Erica by then, and she doesn’t have a reign on her control, it’s going to be hell.” John continued, eyes now showing real concern. “And if any of you decide to wolf out a little, I’m not sure how that’s going to go with me being the only one here.”

“Tag team?” Derek asks, just as he hears the shower turn off upstairs. 

The Sheriff goes to reply but pauses when Derek shakes his head quickly, a finger coming up to point at the ceiling before tapping at his earlobe. John nods in understanding and sends him a wink, showing his acceptance of joining Derek in bullying Stiles into staying home tonight.

“What are you two plotting?” Stiles questions ten minutes later, when she steps into the kitchen, and finds them sitting there silently, sipping at their coffee. Her eyes are narrowed in suspicion. “You’re awfully quiet and it’s only slightly terrifying.”

Derek turns to face her, takes in the fact that she’s dressed in a shirt he knows was once Isaac’s training Lacrosse jerseys and a pair of jeans, he’s sure are Erica’s. Derek doesn’t bother in taking a glance at John because he knows the other man is sporting the same grin that’s stretching across his own features.

~

“I’m just saying this for the record,” Stiles says, half buried under Derek, Isaac and Scott. “I could kick all your asses without batting an eye.”

Derek shrugs a shoulder, grimacing slightly when Isaac, who’s got his head resting on his collarbone, grumbles in complaint. “You need sleep. We can’t help Erica and Boyd if we’re half dead on our feet. The full moon is coming up too and we need our Alpha to keep us anchored.”

Stiles easily slips out from under Scott’s weight and stands to pace the length of her bed. Derek can’t remember when exactly he was allowed to step into her bedroom, or her father’s for that matter, but it soothes him more than anything has since Laura, since his family had been ripped from his clutches. Being so easily trusted in the inner den of an Alpha and her father, it’s a feeling that he’s been bereft of for too long and he’s determined not to let that change.

“That’s exactly why I need to find them,” she tells him. “They’ve only had one full moon and if something happens where they are when they lose control, they’re dead. I don’t want to find their bodies, but if they attack whoever has them, that’s going to end up happening.”

“What if they’re dead already?” Scott asks, then winces when Isaac elbows him sharply in the ribs.

Stiles stiffens, a growl beginning to rise in her chest. “We would have found their bodies by now. Gerard would have dumped them on my front step if that were the case.”  
Derek wraps gentle fingers around her wrist and tugs lightly until she follows the silent request to come back into the pile, Isaac all but sprawling on top of her like a breathing blanket.

“That’s not going to happen because we’re going to find them _alive_.” He says fiercely, nose buried in Stiles’ hair. “It’s just taking some time.”

“It’s time we don’t have!” She replies, trying to spring out from under them again, but with three wolves’ arms suddenly caging her in, she struggles. It’s half-hearted at best, he knows. Stiles could easily wave them away like an errant fly.

He cups her chin and connects their gazes. “ _We will find them._ ” Derek repeats, voice brooking no argument. He presses their foreheads together when Stiles stubbornly tries to move away, holds their position for a moment, sharing the same breathe, before he murmurs, “We’ll find them. Tell me.”

Her heartbeat stutters at the way Derek’s nose brushes the side of hers, before it steadies in his ears. She then nods, a determined tilt to her chin. “We’ll find them.”

~

“Nothing?” Gerard asks, eyebrows raised. “Not even a whine of pain?”

Erica and Boyd glare, their jaws clenched tightly as they continue to writhe in pain.

Allison’s stomach turns a little when she notices a line of crimson slowly drip from Erica’s nose, but she makes sure the werewolves don’t see her unease. Her mother would expect more of her, and with that resolve, she steels herself. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction, for her mother.

“I suppose it’d be hard to make a noise let alone words, when you’ve got electricity coursing through your bodies,” her grandfather continues on, walking around where Erica and Boyd are strung up. “But I guess one of the blessings of being an abomination is you get to heal from it. Your body right now, is healing whatever fried nerves or cells you have, faster than the voltage is passing through. You should count your lucky stars.”

Erica bares her teeth at him when he stands before her, her fangs painted a light pink from her blood.

Gerard nods at her and Allison cuts the power of the battery off, watches with a failed attempt of detachment, as Erica and Boyd slump in relief.

“Now, are you gonna tell me something about your Alpha? Or am I going to have to play a different game with you two?”

Allison startles a little when Boyd begins to chuckle. It’s equal parts of never hearing him laugh before and a distinct discomfort of someone laughing in his position in the first place.

“I’m going to enjoy seeing what my Alpha is gonna do to you,” he murmurs, letting his eyes flash molten. “I never did see what happened to your daughter, but I hope it’s just as brutal.”

Boyd gets backhanded, the resounding clap of it echoing in the basement, Erica taking the opportunity to lunge forward with a snarl, her fangs snapping inches away from Gerard’s nose, her bound hands the only thing keeping her in place. 

She lets out a whimper seconds later, curls away from Gerard like she’s being burned, and Allison sees why when she notices the blade sticking out from her side, her grandfather’s hand slowly twisting the hilt.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he warns, smiling at her. He twists the hilt again roughly. “Or else I’ll be dealing only with one of Stilinski’s little mutts.”

Boyd struggles beside them, growls and snarls. Erica whimpers. Allison sits there, wide eyed.

She knows now that Kate hadn’t been who she thought she was. That the playful, loving aunt, who was more like her sister than anything else, had been a cold blooded killer. Had killed innocent children in such a horrific way, that she sometimes had nightmares where she was the one trapped in a house with flames licking her body, while Kate stood outside and watched with a her face twisted into an ugly smile.

As she watches her grandfather rip the blade from Erica’s ribs, making the she-wolf cry out in pain, she wonders if maybe Gerard was the one to lead Kate into her own self destruction. And if so, was he doing the same to her?

~

The next day, Allison is walking with her grandfather to his office to have lunch together. Usually, she’d be with Lydia and Jackson, but the thought of seeing Scott today in the cafeteria, had made her stomach clench.

She has a feeling why, as she passes another poster of Erica and Boyd’s faces plastered on the hallway wall, claiming that they’re missing and ‘If seen, please call the authorities’ in big, bold letters. It's because she feels guilty. Guilty because her classmates were currently hanging from her basement ceiling and she’s the reason why they’re there in the first place. Guilty because either one of them could have been Scott himself.

Her hands and heart clench at the thought.

“You’re quiet,” Gerard comments, smiling gently at her. It almost seems funny that this smile scares her more than the one he gave Erica last night. Maybe because Allison knows this one is fake, insincere. “What’s the matter?”

She smiles back, as best as she can, nods her head in thanks when he opens the door to the Principal’s office for her, and steps into the room. She tells him, “Just tired, grandpa.”

The door is closed behind her after Gerard follows and Allison gets the odd feeling that she’s somehow been trapped. “Oh? It wasn’t because of what happened last night, is it? You have to be able to stomach that kind of thing, if you’re going to step up and take your mother’s mantle.”

She sits down at the table and pulls out her packed lunch, just a chicken salad. Shaking her head, she quickly comes up with a lie that will be believable. “No, no. That was fine,” she says, swallowing the sick feeling she had woken up with this morning. “It’s just – they really are monsters. Something out of a nightmare.”

Gerard clicks his tongue sympathetically at her as he takes his own seat in front of her. “It’s a lot to take in when you haven’t been exposed to it like the rest of your family has. I’ll never forgive Christopher for never starting you early in your training. Kate had killed her first abomination when she was seven. Your mother was fifteen. You have a lot to learn.”

His words just cement Allison’s thoughts about Kate being a cold blooded killer. She doesn’t know how she feels about her mother though. There’s a burning in her stomach though, that there’s more to her mother’s suicide that she’s not being told, but between her father’s reluctance in speaking about his late wife, Allison doesn’t want to ask.  
She nods at him anyway, continues to play the role of a Hunteress in training. 

“But don’t you worry,” he says, giving her another one of his smiles. “We’ll have you on your aunt’s level soon enough.”

Spearing a piece of chicken with her fork, she forces the bile rising in the back of her throat down and asks, “How do we do that? I want to – I want to make her proud. Her and Mom.”

Gerard leans back in his chair, and a look of pride graces his features. Allison tries not to shudder in disgust.

“Well, first, we’re gonna kill that –” he starts, but a knock on the door interrupts him.

“Oh, sorry, sir.” One of the receptionist ladies says, stepping into the room. “I didn’t know you were busy. I can come back later, if you’d like?”

Gerard waves her words away. “What can I do for you, Irene?”

“You’re needed at the front office. There was a mix up with some forms and I can’t sign off on anything because I’m only the receptionist.” she explains, looking apologetic. “I tried to find a way around it, but no luck.” 

He gets to his feet. “It’s okay, Irene. I’ll be there in a moment.” To Allison, he shrugs, looking contrite. “Being a principal isn’t as fun as it looked. You stay here and finish your lunch. If I’m not back before the bell rings, don’t forget to lock up.”

She forces a smile onto her face and nods again. “It’s okay, grandpa. Go do what you have to do.”

He walks out of the room with the receptionist and as the door closes, Allison feels like she can breathe for the first time.

She packs away her lunch and fidgets in her seat for a moment, thinking that what she’s about to do is not only risky, but completely stupid as well. Biting her lip in resolve, she gets to her feet and walked around the desk, before sitting in the leather chair. 

Glancing around the desk, she lifts and moves papers aside, noting that it’s just things relating to Beacon Hills High and nothing else. Stumped, she leans back in the chair and sighs, but then blinks her eyes when the sun, that’s shining in the room form behind, reflects off something to her right.  
Leaning forward, Allison realises there’s a set of keys hanging from a drawer. Heart rate beginning to speed up, she wheels the chair closer and taking one glance at the closed door, reaches out and pulls the drawer open.

She finds nothing but a leather bound book sitting at the bottom of the drawer, a leather strip keeping it closed with how tightly it’s wound around the middle of it.  
Tilting her head to the side in confusion, she grabs for it with a hand and pulls it up closer to look at. She debates for a moment on whether she should open it or not, but throws caution to the wind. She’s already come this far, she might as well see what’s inside.

What she finds inside is enough to make her want to throw up what little she’s eaten today.

~

That night, when Allison’s house is quiet, she sneaks downstairs to the landline and quickly dials a number she wishes she could forget.

A sleepy voice answers, and while swallowing back the bile she can feel at the back of her throat, she whispers, “Scott? Scott, I need your help.”


	8. Chapter Eight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the process of finding her Betas, Stiles loses something just as important.

It’s nearing three weeks now that Erica and Boyd have been missing, when Derek is on a run and gets a text from John saying, _I don’t care how you do it, but get back home. Now._

He hasn’t panicked at the thought of _home_ for a long while, but he does feel it now, added with the urge to fight and claw when he does arrive back at the house, he sees a snarling Stiles at the front door. Derek doesn’t blame her, not when he realises who exactly has set her off. He makes his way up the porch steps, takes a look at Stiles and makes sure she’s okay before silently following the order she gives him, when she opens the door further to let him in. 

Boyd, Erica, John and Isaac are standing in the foyer of the house, the werewolves' eyes glowing. The first two look like hell, their clothes are ripped and dirty, the she-wolf’s blonde curls caked with dried blood while Boyd’s weight has shifted all to the left. Isaac is crouched before them, claws scratching the floorboards, his focus solely on the door.

John watches on beside Isaac, his arms folded and dressed in his Sheriff uniform, gun un-holstered at his hip. He was likely on his way to work before Erica and Boyd showed up and is now waiting before leaving, either to make sure something doesn’t happen or to protect his Pack if need be.

Derek eyes Erica and Boyd with concern, quietly asking them if they’re okay too and they both nod their heads resolutely. He accepts it for now, telling himself he’ll ask them when the time is right, before turning to stand at Stiles right shoulder, glaring at Allison and Scott, who’s standing by her side and whining at the back of his throat.

“Please Stiles, just listen to what she –“ Scott starts, eyes averted and neck bared.

“Get inside,” she snaps, growls lining her words.

“But –“ 

“ _Now, Scott_.” Stiles orders, teeth bared. 

The way Scott shudders tells Derek her eyes are flaring crimson, the instinct to follow through making him shudder too. He bobbles his head and slinks passed her, the same whine reaching a new level when she doesn’t accept the way he tries to press himself against her. It’s a silent ‘I’ll deal with you at a later time’ and Derek honestly doesn’t blame him for it.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” Stiles says, coolly. She’s moved to stand in the doorway, body seemingly growing in size as she makes herself a literal blocking aid between the Huntress and her Pack. “Especially alone and unarmed.”

Allison’s heart is racing in her chest, all the wolves can hear it, but her voice is steady when she replies, “I needed to speak to you. There’s things that I’ve come to realise, things I’ve found out. I felt I –“

“I don’t care what you _felt_ like you needed to do,” Stiles interrupts, a hand held out to stop her from continuing.

“I think you should,” Allison snaps, glaring. “After everything you werewolves have done to my family, I think you owe me one.”

A snarl erupts from Stiles’ chest, so loud it reverberates in Derek’s. 

“I don’t _owe_ you a goddamn thing.” She spits, taking a menacing step forward. Allison tenses, her fists balling up by her sides. “And what happened to your family has been coming to them long before I came into the picture. Your mother, however –”

“Stiles,” Scott whispers then, shaking his head behind her, “Please, _don’t_.”

She glares over her shoulder at him and he predictably clicks his mouth shut. 

“Tell her Scott, or I will.” She tells her Beta.

Derek watches as Allison stares between them, the glare playing on her face now replaced with a look of confusion. 

“Scott?” She asks, finally facing him. “What is she talking about?”

The tension that surrounds them is enough to make Derek want to hide from it all. He can see the struggle on Scott’s face. Does he obey his Alpha, to protect his best friend or does he lie and protect the girl he loves? Scott decidedly says nothing and it makes Stiles bare her teeth silently at him, before she turns and faces Allison.

“You come here or you interact with my Pack ever again, I’ll snap your spine in half. Get the fuck off my property, I won’t ask nicely next time.”

The door is slammed in the Hunteress’ face before she whirls around to face Scott, eyes blazing. Derek almost wants to bare his throat to her in Scott’s place because this isn’t going to be good.

“Stiles, please. She has information on her grandfather.” He begs, hands held up in a placating manner.

“ _You brought her here_ , to my den?” She snarls, taking a step forward. “After I ordered you to stay away from her, until we found my Betas, your Packmates? The same ones she brings with her, because you. Brought. Her. Here?”

“She wants to help,” Scott tells her, eyes pleading. “She’s the one that set Erica and Boyd free!”

“After taking us in the _first_ place,” Erica snaps, glaring, finally speaking. Boyd has a clawed hand wrapped tightly around her elbow, keeping her in place. “She shot arrows at us before practically gift wrapping us for her crazy grandfather! He strung us up and electrocuted us! He fucking _stabbed_ me!”

“Take Erica and Boyd upstairs to clean them up,” Derek tells Isaac and John, when Stiles glances in his direction with a barely there tilt of her chin. “They need a shower and some new clothes.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the she-wolf growls, leaning away from John’s outstretched hand.

He stares her down silently, eyes burning blue as he waits her out until she concedes with a short whine, following after a patient Isaac and John, mouth now twisted into a silent snarl. Derek waits until she and Boyd have disappeared from sight before turning back to the shouting match behind him.

“— understand, she’s trying to help!” Scott argues, now throwing his hands up into the air in frustration. “And you shouldn’t have mentioned her mother, which was a low blow, even for you!”

Stiles is growling loudly now, the sound grating and more than enough to make Derek want to bare his belly in submission. She’s got Scott tucked into the door, his shoulders hunched and curled in, like he’s trying to appease his Alpha by making himself smaller. The fact that he’s still arguing doesn’t help whatsoever.

“You keeping what happened from her isn’t doing her any favours, especially if she has her crossbow aimed at your Pack for acting in self-defense!” She snaps, before taking a deep, calming breathe in, trying to pull the Shift back. She exhales slowly and says firmly, “This is the second time, Scott. The _second_ time where you’ve nearly put your Pack in danger, all because you’re too blind to see past your love for her.”

“What’s so wrong with being in love with her?” He explodes, glaring as he pushes into Stiles’ face. “Why can’t I just love her and not have anyone tell me that I can’t?! You’re my best friend Stiles, why can’t you just let me be happy?”

“I’m not just your best friend, Scott. I’m your _Alpha_.” Stiles bites out, throwing Derek’s words at him. Her eyes have gone crimson again. “I hold a lot more lives in my hands than you can imagine and the fact you’re so willing to throw said lives away, which include our parents by the way, makes me question if you even want a place here in my Pack.”

Scott looks as if she had reached out and gutted him with her bare hands. “Wh-what?”

Derek watches as Stiles swallows harshly, eyes bleeding from crimson to the colour of honey. It doesn’t take away the liquid sheen that’s taken over though, and he knows she’s only just holding back the tears that are threatening to spill.

“You’ve disobeyed me twice, Scott. You’ve endangered yourself without thinking about what position that put me in, when you followed after who you thought was Allison and nearly got the both of us killed from wolfsbane and a knife to the ribs.” 

“I said I was sorry!” He cuts in, taking a step forward to clasp her hands in his. “The next day, I was here and I apologised!”

“I asked you not to go and you ignored me. I would have let it go if that had been that, but when I ordered you to stay away until two of your Packmates were found, you disregarded _that_ as well. I can’t – I can’t keep giving you chances if you’re not willing to see how it’s affecting us when you choose someone over the Pack.” She whispers, removing her hands from his before taking a step back. She takes in a steadying breathe before squaring her shoulders. “You should leave. I have two Betas that _need_ my attention and want my help.”

“You wouldn’t have Erica and Boyd back, if it wasn’t for Allison!” Scott suddenly snaps. “She helped bring them back!”

Derek’s mouth drops open in surprise, the same Stiles’ does. She recovers a lot faster than he does though, because she snarls seconds later at him again.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, Scott?” She asks, her hands now balled by her sides. “Is that supposed to give her points in her favour? Make me forget everything else she's done? She’s the one that took them in the first place!”

Scott goes to say something else, but Stiles lifts a hand up and stops him. Her mouth is twisted into a bitter smile. “You should really leave. Now.”

Stiles glances at Scott one last time before turning her back on him and walking up the stairs. Derek reaches out and brushes his fingers against her wrist, quietly grounding them both and nodding when she gives him a brittle grimace in thanks.

“Stiles, please,” Scott says, sounding suddenly desperate, moving to follow her. He startles when he’s stopped by Derek’s hand.

She ignores him and they both watch as she disappears from sight, just like how Erica, Boyd, her father and Isaac had minutes before.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around Scott and tugging him towards and through the front door, managing to snag his car keys off the hook before it’s closed.

“I can’t just leave,” he protests, but his words are cracking, broken, as he lets himself be directed. Tears are beginning to slide down his face and a fine tremor has taken over his body. “I _need_ to fix this.”

It’s a lot darker outside than when he was outside before on his run and there’s no Allison in sight. She’s thankfully taken Stiles’ warnings as what they were and had left. Scott’s bike isn’t outside so he must have drove with her after releasing Boyd and Erica.

The reminder makes Derek ball his hands into tight fists, the keys biting into one of his palms. He silently shoves Scott into the Camaro before slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the car. They don’t speak, Derek just driving while Scott sniffs and whines beside him. 

It’s only minutes before he and Scott are outside the McCall house, the car idling, but the both of them choosing not to move.

“What do I do?” Scott asks, voice soft. “I’m in love with Allison but Stiles is – she’s my best friend, she’s my sister and my Alpha. I can’t choose between them.”

Derek sighs and flexes his grip around the steering wheel, trying to reign in his control. He’s angry on Erica and Boyd’s behalf, he’s mad at Scott for not seeing the damage Allison can do, has proven she will do. He’s also feeling sorry for the strain that his love for the young Huntress has put on his and Stiles’ relationship. On top of that though, is the overwhelming sense of needing to be with his Pack right now, _all of them_ , Scott included.

“You don’t have to.” He sighs again, before glancing over at the younger werewolf. “Stiles made the choice for you.”

~  
“I checked, I _swear_ I checked,” Stiles tells them frantically, when she has Boyd and Erica piling on her. “I did laps of the Argent house and I didn’t hear or smell a thing.”

Boyd’s whining into her throat, his large hands hot against the small of her back. “Gerard said he had noise cancelers and scent blockers. You wouldn’t have been able to hear or scent us even if you were standing in the house.”

It made sense that Argent would go to such extremes to make sure her Betas were kept well hidden. He wasn’t an amateur Hunter, he knew Stiles would have searched the house and listened in for any clue as to where Erica and Boyd were. She just wished she had picked up on it, on something, _anything_.

She supposes she’d be dead if she had. Stiles would have torn their front door down with her bare hands if she had figured out they were there. She wants to do it right now, if she was being honest with herself. Wanted to drive over there and cut Gerard’s oxygen off by choking him to death with her hands, and watch the light fade from his eyes.  
She wants her face to be the last thing he ever sees.

“We could hear you though,” Erica says, face tucked into her ribs and her arms wrapped tightly around her thighs. “Could hear you and Derek outside for a week straight.”

Guilt thrashes in her stomach, makes Stiles clutch at them more tightly, probably to the point of pain, but Erica and Boyd seem to welcome it, burying their bodies that much closer.

Isaac is wedged between the two and on top of Stiles, his nose pressed into Erica’s now clean curls. “It’s okay now, you guys are back. We’re safe.”

Stiles shakes her head at him before clenching her jaw tightly. “As long as Gerard is here in Beacon Hills, no, we’re not.” 

~

“I know, I know.” Derek murmurs, hours later, arms wrapped tightly around Stiles as she sobs, her face tucked tightly in the curve of his throat, tears hot against his skin and making the collar of his Henley damp. “He’ll come back, you know Scott will. He’s just confused at the moment.”

He’s thankful that the rest of the Pack isn’t here, knowing that Stiles wouldn’t want them to see her like this, but he’s sure that if they were here, it would settle her a little. Her control is slipping slightly, the fingers she has clenched around the material at the small of his back going sharp before fading away. He can feel her fangs pressing against her mouth at his throat, hear how her sobs slide into high pitched whines and whimpers. Derek noses at her hair and just holds on that tighter.

Derek feels like he’s just blinked when he wakes to a rough palm rubbing over his head gently. He blinks sleepily, not sure when exactly he fell asleep and comes face to face with John, dressed in his uniform sans gun, and who’s smiling sadly down at him.

“You alright?” He whispers, giving him one more head rub, before his eyes take in the way Stiles has curled up into a tiny ball in the curve of his side, fast asleep. 

Derek shakes his head, feeling drained and exhausted. The way John nods lets him know he doesn’t need to elaborate. 

“Erica and Boyd?” He asks, voice scratchy.

“Reports are done and they’re safe at home with their families.” He replies, sitting beside Stiles, hand reaching out to run his hand through her hair like he had done to Derek moments before. “I expect a lot of family meetings over their ‘running away together’ stunt, but they’re okay. For now, anyway.”

Isaac had been the one to come up with the idea, fidgeting between Erica and Boyd when he explained that that’s what he was going to do when he turned eighteen, to get away from his father. Stiles had nodded once when there was no objection from anyone, they did need to explain away why they had been missing for nearly a month, so it was a good enough reason as any.

They had driven back to the woods when Stiles was able to let them go, and ‘stumbled’ on a patrol car doing its rounds before being picked up and delivered to an informed Sheriff, before the bombard of rightfully concerned and anxious parents hit the Station like a hurricane.

“I’ve got this,” John says, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You go back to your room and get some actual sleep.”

Just as Derek is about to pull the man onto the bed with them, a soft exhale from Stiles stops him. They both glance down and Stiles shifts against him before he hears the way her breathe hitches.

“Dad?” She whispers, lifting her head up to glance over her shoulder.

“Hey, Kiddo.” He smiles, arms opening just as his daughter launches herself into them. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Even though the man hadn’t been there to physically hear how Stiles had removed Scott’s place in the Pack, the fact that he had three wolves listening in on the conversation would have cleared up everything. 

Derek slips out of the bed and while struggling to get both Stilinskis’ onto the mattress, he helps John out of his shoes and pants, before throwing one of Stiles’ blankets over them.

Stiles is crying again, her head laying on John’s chest and her fingers digging into his side, while her father runs a soothing hand down her back, voice low as he hums a tune that’s become even familiar to Derek. He cups the back of Stiles’ neck and squeezes lightly, leaning down to nuzzle his nose in her hair and behind her ear, before he’s pulling away and stepping out of the room, door closed gently behind him as he makes his way back to his own bed and under the covers. Derek lays there silently, eyes burning holes into the ceiling above him, as he listens to Stiles fall apart all over again.


	9. Chapter Nine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air is cleared, there's apologies shared and a plan is in the makings.

Derek comes downstairs and finds a rumpled Sheriff sitting at the table. He’s just finished his night shift and is having a nibble at the leftover meatloaf they had for dinner the night before, before heading off to bed.

He smiles sleepily at Derek, mumbles a greeting and continues eating, as Derek goes about making some coffee.

“How’s Scott going?” He asks, knowing without having to ask, that John’s kept in contact with Melissa.

He’s glad that Stiles left early for school, something about arguing with a Coach Finstock regarding a grade on a paper she got back, and isn’t around to hear this particular conversation. He knows it wouldn’t end so well for them.

John lets out a sigh and shakes his head sadly. “Not as good as Mel would like, but he’s doing okay. Isaac is keeping Scott from going off into the deep end since he smells like us, but I don’t think Stiles will allow that to keep happening for much longer.”

It’s only been five days, but it’s long enough for a sense of wrongness to take place in his chest and begin growing.

“I’d like him to be here for the full moon, but I don’t think that will go over with Stiles that well either.” He continues, leaning back in his chair with another sigh. “I ended up giving Mel the chains I used on Stiles, when she was still learning how to control herself as a kid. They’re strong enough to withstand anything that Scott might throw at them, but without a safe place to house him, he could get out and do some damage anyway.”

Derek leans against the counter while he waits for the kettle to stop boiling. He’s frowning at the older man, trying to come up with a solution that will keep Scott safe from Hunters and from hurting an innocent civilian, or even his mother, and a solution that will keep him out of his Alpha’s bad graces.

“Maybe if we tell Stiles that having Scott here, is better than having him locked up somewhere where we can’t keep an eye on him in case something happens, she might agree to it.” Derek finally offers, a fresh mug of coffee in hand. He moves and sits across the table from the Sheriff. “She won’t say no to the bigger picture of keeping Scott safe from the Argents and from hurting people.”

"I was thinking the same thing," John nods, mouth twisting in agreement. “Sounds like a plan.”

Derek sips at his coffee, happy to bask in the comfortable silence that follows. The way John studies him from across the table though, is enough for a pulse of unease to dance along his spine. He hasn’t felt that way in a long while living in the Stilinski house, especially with the older man and it makes him fidget under that unrelenting gaze.

“You know, something occurred to me that day we got Erica and Boyd back.” He says minutes after only silence between the two.

Derek raises his eyebrows at him.

“Years of being Claudia’s Second and then the few as Stiles’, has taught me a thing or two in recognising when someone else is Second in another Pack.” John explains, gaze still searching. “What I’ve found is I’ve been replaced. By you.”

Disbelief fills his chest, fast and thick. He wasn’t made for being an Alpha, little alone a Second. He was just a Beta, nothing special in the grand scheme of things and he was more than happy with that. He tells John as much, tries to laugh it off as some kind of stupid joke the older man is playing on him.

“Son, listen to me,” The older man says, smiling softly. “You’ve been her Second for a while now. I’m not sure when we swapped positions but it doesn’t feel fresh, it feels like it’s been established for some time. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t like the idea of it when I first realised, but you’re good for her. The same can be said for her being good for you.”

“I can’t – that _can’t_ be right,” he murmurs, eyes glued to the mug swirling with cooling coffee in it. He chances a look up from under his eyelashes, darting his gaze back down to a Sheriff badge, when he finds he’s being stared at with kind eyes. “No, that’s not possible. I wouldn’t make a good Second. I wasn’t even going to be _Laura’s_ Second, that was going to be Peter."

“When there’s a problem that needs to be solved regarding Stiles, I talk to you, the conversation we just had minutes before this one, is proof of that. The wolves recognise you as a higher rank than themselves, besides Stiles. They haven’t come to me since the night at the rave party, maybe even before that. You wouldn’t have been able to stare Erica down the way you did five nights ago, if you aren’t.” John lists, a finger held up at each point. He pauses and seems to mull over something before he continues, “And Stiles asks for your opinion involving the Pack.”

“But she does that with you too,” he protests, weakly. “With everything she’s decided to do, she’s had both of us there with her, then the Pack as well.”

“I was only there as her _father_ and senior _Beta_ , not her Second.” John explains, gently. “Being the Sheriff limits me in some things when it comes to werewolf business, actually a lot of things, if I’m being honest, but it does have its perks when I can use my position to get werewolves or Hunters outta town. Still, having Stiles alone out there while I’ve had to stay behind due to legal ties, never sat well with me. Now at least, I don’t have to worry too much if I’m gonna find my daughter dead, with a bullet embedded in her skull, because she left my sights alone.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Derek says, feeling a little helpless. It feels like his world view has been blurred until now, everything that much clearer like he’s seeing everything for the first time with new eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything,” the Sheriff replies, with a shrug of his shoulders. He gets up and circles the table to clasp the nape of his neck and squeezes gently. He seems to hesitate again for only a brief second, before leaning forward to press his nose into Derek’s hair. Into the strands, he says, “I don’t think there’s anyone else I’d rather have, standing at Stiles’ back and protecting her than you. So, congratulations. And thank you.”

Derek’s chest rumbles without his consent. At the Sheriff’s words and his obvious act of scent marking Derek as a member of his Pack.

Sure, being in the Stilinski household, Derek was bound to smell like the Sheriff’s scent and the spice of his aftershave, but that was because of exposure. This? This was different. This was a _deliberate_ act of scent marking, more than just a clap of a palm on his shoulder or nudge of an elbow, and Derek preened at the thought.

“Thank you,” he murmurs back, glancing up at John and giving him a brittle smile. “I never thought – I never thought I could have this again. A pack and people to rely on when I need them to be strong when I can’t be. It’s – it’s home.”

John’s face falls for a second, before he grabs the chair closest to him, drags it closer and sits down again. He seems to think over something before he clears his throat. “Speaking of Pack. If there’s a time after all this is over, where you want to talk to someone about what happened to your family, I can give you the number of the therapist Stiles and I saw after Claudia died.”

Derek’s mouth drops open in surprise and for a split second, disbelief.

A hand comes up to stop whatever words were brewing on his tongue.

“I know, that was insensitive of me to just bring them up like that, but Derek, you’ve changed _so_ much.” John continues, smiling gently. “It’s hard to believe it’s only been months that have passed that you were on my doorstep, looking nine types of angry and distrustful. I just want you to have the chance to really _heal_ , to really come to terms with what’s happened and why it was never your fault.”

The urge to run is high, but Derek stays put. “How’d you know –”

He’s given a look that silences his question. “Stiles never told me, if that’s what you were asking. She meant what she said, when she refused to tell me your secret and I’ve respected her and your wish to keep it as one. Things just got a lot clearer with Stiles' overprotective tendencies when it came to you and being anywhere near the Argents and Peter killing Kate. I’m also the Sheriff for good reason, and it isn’t my stunning good looks.”

Derek snorts out a laugh, glad that John relaxes at the sound and finding himself doing the same. “I don’t know. From what Stiles tells me of some of the ladies that try and feed you greasy food and sweet desserts, I think it might have a _little_ to do with it.”

John rolls his eyes, even if a blush begins to bloom on his cheeks. “Stiles needs to keep her thoughts to herself, or else I’m going to have rumours on my hands.”

Another easy silence grows between them and Derek takes the time to mull over the conversation. He knows that John is right. He can see it and feel it for himself. He’s changing. And it’s for the better.

Maybe the idea of seeing a therapist isn’t as bad as he had originally thought. Maybe he should take John’s advice and see the one he and Stiles had seen, after one Claudia Stilinski died. Derek could become the person he was going to turn into, before Paige’s death and Kate’s toxic touch changed him into the person he was after the fire.

He waves that notion away as quickly as it entered his mind. He’d never actually be the person he was supposed to be, not after what he went through, but he could be _better_. And the thought is appealing, he’s not going to lie.

Glancing up at John, he watches the older man. Watches the easy way he’s in Derek’s space without it being awkward. They’re close enough that if he really concentrated, he could feel John’s body heat and they’re not even touching.

They’re just sharing space and just being.

Derek before never would have let someone so close to him, especially one that was human and knew of the supernatural world and what role he played in it.

“I wasn’t there for your Pack, but I’m hoping I can make some type of amends in helping you. It’s just a suggestion only, though.” John finishes, smiling again softly, before reaching out to pat a warm palm against his forearm. “If you think you don’t need one, then that’s it. Won’t be brought up again. I just want you to know the option is there and if you ever want it to happen, I’ll do everything to make it so.”

Derek can’t understand how he got so lucky in having the Stilinskis in his life, but he’s more than thankful.

~

It’s only been a few days that Stiles hasn’t seen or spoken to Scott, when she hears his pulse skyrocket as he enters the school building. Confused and more than a little worried, she slams her locker closed and walks briskly to where she can hear Scott, now in the locker rooms with the showers turned on.

Ignoring the fact she’s in the boy’s locker room, she slips in easily and rounds the corner and when she finds who’s she’s looking for, she’s throwing her bag and books down, tossing her phone and shoes to the side, before she’s slipping under the spray of cold water to wrap around Scott.

“Scott?” She asks, cupping his face and pulling it up so she can look into his eyes. She isn’t surprised that they’re glowing molten. “Talk to me, Scotty, what’s happened?”

He gasps out, clawed hands reaching for her and pulling her in, Stiles following him until he’s tucked against her chest, his ear pressed over her heart.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” She whispers, slippery wet hand coming up to turn the shower off so he can hear her better. “Just listen to me breathe and match it, don’t worry about anything else and just _breathe_.”

It takes several minutes before Scott’s pulse steadies and his breathing levels to calm puffs of hot air against her skin. “I don’t know what happened.” He whispers, voice wrecked. 

His molten coloured eyes fade away to their usual brown, claws melting away to bitten down nails. “It felt like I couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard I tried.”

“You just had an anxiety attack. Had a few myself after Mama died. It sucks balls.” She murmurs, moving his face until it’s tucked into the curve of her throat. “Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

“He threatened her.” Scott mumbles, hands clenching around her waist. “Gerard threatened Mom.”

A growl grates at the back of her throat at his words before she can stop it. “ _What_?”

“He freaking _stabbed_ me outside the hospital, when I went to pick her up a few nights ago and said that I couldn’t be in two places at once.” He explains, a whine slowly picking up in his chest. “He said I couldn’t protect my mother from getting hurt, but if I helped him, she’d be left alone. He just reminded me now again outside the school when he dropped Allison off. He’s been doing that ever since the first night at the hospital, just popping up when I’m there.”

Stiles feels her fangs drop as she gnashes them together. She wants to tear Gerard apart, limb from limb. “You, Isaac and Melissa are staying at mine from here on out. I’ll text her and let her know. Derek can pick her up.”

“He’s crazy, Stiles.” Scott tells her, pulling away, his hair in his eyes. “He didn’t even care that there were people around us when he stabbed me. He’s not gonna stop until we’re dead.”

“That’s not gonna happen. I won’t let it.” she promises, pressing their foreheads together. They breathe in quietly for a few minutes before Stiles pulls away. “Come on, we need to get dry before class starts. You better have a spare pair of clean boxers because I’m taking them.”

“But that means I don’t have a pair to wear!” Scott protests, shakily getting to his feet. “What am I supposed to wear?”

She glares at him half-heartedly. “You should have thought of that before you decided to have a panic attack under a turned on showerhead. You could have passed out and drowned.”

“Nah,” her best friend suddenly, blindingly smiles, wrapping a wet, soggy clothed arm around her shoulders to reel her into his equally soaked side. “You wouldn’t have let me.”

She’s not going to say she hasn’t missed her best friend, because that would be a filthy lie that a human could call her out on. It’s felt like she’s been without a limb, not having Scott by her side and she honestly never wants to go through that ever again. Stiles just isn’t sure where they stand now, with Allison being who she is and still in the picture, despite them not being together anymore.

“Yeah, I know, buddy.” She replies, smiling herself despite her wary thoughts. She shoves her hand into his face, laughing when he tries to bite at it. “Where would you be without me?”

~

“Is this really necessary?” Melissa asks, pulse beginning to race.

Stiles cupped her elbow gently and turned her away from the backyard entrance to the Preserve behind her fence. “If they don’t fight it out, they’re not going to rely on one another. I need them to be on the same page for themselves and me. There can’t be any fractions in the Pack.”

“I’ll be fine,” Scott tells her, smiling softly, despite the fact that there’s twin growls coming from behind him, somewhere in the forest. “We need to talk some things out.”

“Yes, I agree, just not with your fangs and claws!” Melissa snaps back, folding her arms across her chest. She glares over at Stiles. “I won’t allow you in letting this happen. You _hear_ me?”

Stiles growls at the older woman with a quick snap of her jaws.

Melissa, for her part, automatically averts her eyes, drops her arms from their crossed position and bares her throat and unprotected belly.

Stiles bites back the urge to physically step into Melissa’s space, and let her _feel_ the repercussions of such disobedience with her mouth wrapped around her throat. She wouldn’t bite down, but the threat that she could, would be more than enough to put Melissa in her place.

Instead, she replies as gently as she can, “You’re not a werewolf, you don’t know what it feels like to have your Pack the way it is right now. You’re his mother, yes, there’s no denying you have authority over what he does, just like my Dad has over me, just not in _this_ specific area.”

John steps up behind her, Isaac and Derek following suit. He pulls Melissa into his chest and hugs her tightly. “Scott will heal, okay? He’s tough. Just think of it as werewolf roughhousing.”

“Just with blood and broken skin.” Melissa replies, an angry tilt still present on her mouth.

“It’s needed,” her father says, subtly pulling her away so Stiles, Derek and Scott could disappear from sight. “They need to do this Mel, you know our kids would never hurt one another intentionally, but if this isn’t done, we can lose every stability the wolves have. Someone _will_ get hurt then, maybe even killed, and we won’t be able to do a thing about it.”

Stiles listens on as her father calms Melissa down, Isaac’s soothing heartbeat a steady metronome accompanying her father’s. She knows Scott’s mother will throw a fit, when she realises it’s just two parents and a werewolf standing in the backyard three minutes from now, but she also knows Melissa is with two of the calmest people that can help her when it happens.

Derek brushes his hand against her wrist before sliding gentle fingertips down until they slide between her own. He squeezes her hand once, lets her tighten her grip back, if a little helplessly, before he’s pulling back.

Speaking of calm people, Stiles thinks, throwing Derek a thankful smile, knowing that even if there wasn’t much light shining through the trees from the half crescent moon, he’d be able to see it. He proves her right by ducking shyly and giving her a smile of her own.

~

Derek watches on as Erica tries to pin Scott to the ground with a clawed hand. She almost succeeds, but Scott throws a knee up and hits her stomach, before sliding an arm free and using it to throw her off of him. She rolls to her feet with a snarl, curls wild around her cheeks and her face smudged with dirt, as she watches on as Scott stumbles to his own.

He must be exhausted, Derek thinks, a frown pulling at his mouth. Fighting Boyd seconds before Erica had pounced, had taken more out of the young Beta than Scott was obviously going to admit to himself. His shirt is more fabric than article of clothing, Boyd attacking with ferocity that had even him wincing, when the blows landed.

Scott had given as good as he got, easily pinning the other werewolf to the forest ground twenty minutes after Stiles had given the go ahead, with a barely there tilt of her chin. 

He had struggled against Scott’s hold with a growl, until a clawed hand wrapped firmly around Boyd’s throat.

“It’s done,” Stiles spoke, a sharp edge to her voice.

Both Betas conceded to their Alpha’s order, detangling their limbs from one another and pulling away. It was only seconds that Scott had of reprieve before he was bodily tossed to the other side of the clearing by Erica.

She’s growling loudly now, frustrated that she can’t pin Scott and it shows in the way she fights. The blonde she-wolf still makes contact though, managing to swipe down Scott’s face with claws more than capable to cut down to the bone.

It’s momentary that Scott is blinded by his own blood, which was how Erica had gotten them both the ground for the first time, but she got carried away in her own lust for blood, that allowed Scott the chance to knee her in her stomach.

It’s all over seconds later, Scott pouncing on Erica and managing to wrap his mouth around her jugular, his fangs dropped as they slam into the ground. She lays under Scott, panting, a low growl slowly beginning in her chest, when the sound abruptly cuts off after Scott pulls his mouth away from her throat, to press their foreheads together.

“I’m so sorry,” He murmurs, voice soft. “I can’t apologise enough for how sorry I am about how selfish I’ve been. I love Allison, I do, but that doesn’t give me permission in allowing my Pack being taken from me, slide into second place. It should have been my first, not when and if Allison spoke to me or not.”

“And you think that that’s going to make everything okay?” Erica snapped, eyes flaring up before fading away again. She begins to struggle under his weight. “Three weeks. We were missing for _three weeks_ , and your precious _girlfriend_ was eating breakfast above our heads, like it was fucking nothing! Like me and Boyd weren’t hanging from her basement ceiling like her fucking washing!”

Derek barely holds back the rumble that lodges itself in the back of this throat. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he intervened, especially if he were angry.

“They shoved electricity through our veins.” Boyd whispers, holding his side like he was trying to ward off a phantom touch. He moves forward until he’s standing half a foot away from where Scott has Erica pinned underneath him. “Kept us from Shifting and attacking them to get away. Do you know what that’s like, Scott?”

The young Beta shakes his head, looking more than guilty and a little sick around the edges.

“I didn’t know.” He replied, a tick to his jaw.

It’s the wrong thing to say, because the other Beta growls and swoops his body down low, weight evenly balanced on his feet.

“You didn't _want_ to know!” Boyd snaps, glaring, slowly stalking forward, hands now sporting sharp claws. “Stiles _told_ you before having Allison too close to you, would hurt you or us and you still didn’t listen! Who’s to say you’re not going to turn your back on us again, when it comes to Allison?”

He’s close now to where Erica is still pinned under Scott, and both Derek and Stiles tense, ready if another fight breaks out unfairly, two against one.

“It won’t. I know it’ll take a while for you two to believe that, but I’m willing to prove it.” Scott promises, standing up, hand held out towards Erica. He doesn’t look at her or Boyd, his throat casually bared to the both of them.

Derek watches on as Erica and Boyd have a silent conversation between themselves. They have every right to be wary, Stiles herself whispering to him the night before, that she wouldn’t blame them if they couldn’t find middle ground with Scott. He had ended up curling up around Stiles last night to stave off the panic he could hear trying to grow in her chest, her face buried into his throat, when at the end, the panic had won.

It seems it isn’t going to go bad after all, because what feels like hours later, Erica clasps her hand with Scott’s, allowing him to pull her to her feet before tugging her into his arms, Boyd silently following after the she-wolf to wrap the both of them in his own.

~

“Do I have to fight you too?” Scott asks him, when he’s handed a bottle of water. His hands shake when he tries to twist the lid open, so Derek takes pity on him and does it for him, before crouching before him, gaze intense.

Scott tenses, waiting for a growl or a twitch of muscles that means he’s going to attack, but gets nothing.

What he gets is Derek tilting his head to the side, a smile twitching at his mouth. He shakes his head before gesturing towards where Stiles is whispering softly to Erica and Boyd, bringing them down from the bloodlust that has to be thrumming through their veins.

“If she’s good,” He tells him. “Then I am, too.”

Scott stares at Derek than lets his gaze dart over to Stiles, where Derek is still looking. His eyes slide between his best friend and the older werewolf, eyebrows furrowing when Stiles seems to realise she’s being watched and swings her head towards them, her sights stilling on Derek.

She smiles softly at him and Scott watches as Derek ducks his head, but not before smiling back.

“ _Oh_.” Scott says, bobbling his head at Derek in understanding. “Oh, okay.”

~

Scott is by her side when they walk back to the house, Derek, Boyd and Erica several feet a head of them. Her Beta is clearly unbothered by the fact his shirt is in tatters around his shoulders and there’s dried blood splattered over his skin, even if said skin is pebbling at the cool night air.

“I am sorry, Stiles.” He tells her, reaching out to stop her in her tracks to face him. “You have to believe me. I never wanted to fight with you.”

“I do,” she replies, facing him. She bites her lip, trying to figure out how to say what she needs to say without hurting Scott’s feelings, and finds that there really isn’t a way beside being brutally honest. “I won’t apologise for how I reacted, when it came to that day with Allison at my house and then what happened after, Scott, I hope you know that. But I _am_ sorry that you’re in this situation, and it kills me inside knowing that I can’t be in your corner, one hundred and ninety percent. Allison being who she is and who she and her family have hunted, I can’t support you the way you want. I can only go so far before I have to stop.”

“Because you’re not just my best friend,” Scott repeats, smiling sadly, eyes downcast. “But you’re an Alpha as well.”

“I’m _your_ Alpha,” Stiles stresses, ducking her head and catching Scott’s eye. “And I’m _theirs_ as well. I’m the Pack’s main defence against all threats that try and attack them. It sucks, it _did_ suck, when the threat I was protecting my Pack from, was my best friend, but I _did_ it. And I’d do it again, if need be, against you, Derek or even my father. I won’t be stupid enough to let anyone harm the people I care for, not again. I need you to understand that I’ll cut through anyone that stands in my way, and I’d rather have you by my side than not.”

Chest aching, she waits for a response from Scott in the silence that follows. She doesn’t know if what she’s said will start another argument between them, she hopes it won’t, but just like how everything played out before with Allison releasing Erica and Boyd, Stiles doesn’t regret it. She finds it hard to even _think_ to.

“I hate fighting with you,” Scott finally says, smiling softly.

“I know the feeling.” She smiles back, never before having the energy to stay mad at him. She wasn’t going to change that now. Stiles does takes a step into his space though, lets her eyes flare up and with a mouthful of fangs, tells him, “But if you ever disobey me like you did again and somehow endanger our Pack, I’m serious Scott, I’ll rip your spine out through your mouth, best friend or not. Am I understood?”

Scott bares his throat with a flash of his eyes.

Stiles doesn’t accept just that. She needs to _physically_ hear him tell her that he does. She takes one final step in and wraps her open mouth against his throat and growls lowly.

Scott whines, bares more of his throat, pressing his skin further into sharp teeth, before saying, “Yes, Alpha, I understand.”

~

It’s only minutes after Stiles’ conversation with Scott, where she had asserted her position to him, that her finds out that Gerard Argent threatened Melissa by cornering her son.

“I’m gonna shoot him in the head.” John growls out, pacing back and forth in front of the couch, like he has for the past twenty minutes. “I’m gonna –“

“You’re not going to do anything, but sit your ass down in that seat and help make a plan.” Melissa snorts, folding her arms across her chest mulishly when she gets a glare tossed in her direction. “ _Now_ , John.”

Derek tries not to grin when the Sheriff follows the woman’s orders and plops down next to Erica, a defiant pout pulling at his mouth. It disappears though when the blonde she-wolf leans heavily against his side, a small smile taking over his features instead, as he ruffles her curls gently.

“There is no plan,” Stiles adds, sighing. “We don’t have any idea what Argent is planning to do, but I’m sick of playing on the defensive. I’m sick of playing by the rules when he’s having free reign. This is my territory and he’s taking it from me.”

Scott fidgets beside Isaac, his lip trapped between his teeth as he glances around the room. He’s dressed in on one of Derek’s Henleys, face and body free of any evidence that he’d been in a fight. She’s glad, she didn’t want Melissa to see, because Stiles knows she would have snarled the woman into submission if she had made a scene.

“What is it, Scott?” She asks.

If her best friend had been fidgeting before, he outright spasms in his seat. “It’s just – it’s just a suggestion, but maybe we can listen to what Allison has to say with what she found –“

Erica goes rigid beside her dad, like she’s going to protest, and Stiles swings her gaze towards the other she-wolf and stares her down. Her worry was warranted, there was no denying it, but if they were to move on as a Pack, as one solid unit, planning something they weren’t comfortable with was inevitable, just as inevitable as acting out said plan, especially if that plan was a compromise with someone that had hurt them.

 _The enemy of my enemy and all that_ , Stiles thinks bitterly, gaze unwavering from the blonde.

Erica concedes with a drop of her eyes and subtle tilt to her head, the expanse of her throat stretched for her eyes.

“It wouldn’t hurt to know what she knows,” her father says, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully, pretending not to see the silent communication between his daughter and her Beta.

Clenching her jaw at his response, Stiles turns and glances at Derek, gaze quietly questioning.

He stares back at her for a long moment before his head drops a little. He says to the carpet, “You know where I stand with the Argents. If we could beat them with only the Pack, I’d take that choice, but I don’t see that being an option. We’re trying to climb a slippery slope.”

Stiles glances then at her Pack, takes in their grim faces, at her newly returned Betas, and knows that reaching out to Allison, is her only chance at getting a steady footing in the fight they’re currently losing in.

Gnashing her teeth once, she nods her head at Scott. “I’ll hear what she has to say, but I’m not promising anything, okay? It’ll have to wait until after the full moon tomorrow, I won’t risk the Pack’s safety right now."

Scott beams. “This will be good for us, Stiles. I promise. She’s gonna be a good ally –“

Stiles holds her hand up to silence him. “We’re not allies, buddy. And we’re not going to be. This is only happening because we’re woefully over our heads and we need a moment to breathe.”

Her best friend’s shoulders slump as he nods, looking contrite. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it, dude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the queen of italics.  
> FEAR ME.


	10. Chapter Ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a MASSIVE chapter. I couldn't cut it any shorter because it would have been a cliffhanger, ugh. So enjoy 5k worth of word babble, overuse of italics and commas. I also don't claim to know how police procedures go in the US of A, let alone here in Australia. Again, my disclaimer is this is a story about werewolves, so let's just play pretend. :D
> 
> You're all beautiful. <33

The meeting between her and Allison hasn’t even been confirmed before it gets pushed back to another time, because Stiles knows as soon as her phone rings, while she’s in the school cafeteria, something horrible has happened, or is most likely _going_ to happen.

Swiping the answer button, she leaves the phone in the centre of the table, her wolves surrounding the device and silently listening. “Dad?”

“Kiddo, listen to me very carefully. Where’s Isaac?” Her father replies, tone firm. It’s his ‘Sheriff’ voice and Stiles finds her gaze darting over to the curly haired werewolf, eyes wide.  
“He’s with me, Dad.” She replies, nudging the phone closer to him. “What’s going on?”

There’s a loud sigh on the receiver. He doesn’t talk to her though when he speaks, but he says, “Isaac, your father’s been murdered last night and there are deputies coming to the school to arrest you for it.”

~

 

“He didn’t do it!” Stiles snaps at Henderson, as she snaps cuffs around Isaac’s wrists. “He was with me at my house! You can even ask Dad! He could clear this up in a matter of minutes!”

Henderson frowns at her, her eyebrows furrowed deeply. She at least looks sympathetic. “You know the procedures more than anyone. Your father’s too close to Isaac and Melissa, especially now that she’s his primary caregiver. He’s just a witness at the moment, he has no sway over anything.”

Stiles can hear the panicked way Isaac’s pulse is beating and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his body and hugging tightly. He buries his face in her neck and breathes in shakily, the beginnings of a whine echoing in his chest.

“I’ll fix this, okay?” she whispers, loud enough for only his ears. “I promise. Just stick close to Dad and do whatever he tells you. Listen to him from outside the interrogation room or wherever they hold you, he’ll tell you what to do or say.”

Isaac is pulled away from her before Isaac can reply, but constantly looks back at her as he’s lead away and into the back of a cruiser, eyes wide and silently pleading.

“What are we gonna do?” Scott asks, stepping up to stand by her side, Erica and Boyd following suit. “There’s a full moon tonight and he’s still shaky on his control.”

“And your father said two officers came in from out of town ‘suddenly’ to investigate all the weird murders Peter was responsible for. They offered to help with this one as well.” The blonde adds, a hard frown tugging at crimson painted lips, as she hands Stiles’ phone back to her. She had continued to talk to her father while Stiles and Isaac were outside. “Twenty bucks says they’re Hunters following Argent.” 

“Jesus, fuck.” Stiles snaps, clenching her hands into fists. “Can _something_ go our way for once, just once?”

~

Allison stands beside Gerard as they watch Isaac being driven away in the back of a Deputy car. Her gaze slides over to Stiles and her Pack through the large window, and sees how frustrated the Alpha is.

“Looks like she’s losing control of the situation. Good. We need her rattled.” Gerard comments, smirking. The smirk disappears though after a few seconds, as his eyes take in Erica and Boyd standing at Stiles’ back. He glances down at her. “Despite having her two Betas mysteriously back.”

Allison forces herself to remain calm because no matter what she thinks, Gerard couldn’t know that she was the one that actually freed Erica and Boyd, right from under her grandfather’s nose. Quite literally, in this case.

“I don’t know what happened, grandpa.” She says, putting on a look of disgust for his benefit. “They were there when we went to school in the morning, I swear it on Mom. They just weren’t when we got back. How do you think they got out?”

“The only person that was in the house was your father,” he replies, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “He’s been distant ever since your mother passed. Keeping things from me, from you. He’s becoming weak, if he thinks he can keep things hidden from me.”

Her heart pounds. She knew that being at her grandfather’s side while Scott snuck in to retrieve his Packmates, would put her father into Gerard’s line of sight, but Allison knows her father can protect himself from anything that’s thrown at him.

No matter what Gerard thinks, her father wasn’t weak and she wasn’t going to be either.

“Do you know what Isaac did to have him arrested?” She asks, trying to push the conversation away from her father. “It must be bad if it’s gone passed the Sheriff’s reach. He would have stopped it from ever getting to this point.”

Gerard nods, before turning away from the window and walking away. “His father is dead. They think Isaac did it.”

Allison blinks owlishly at that as she follows. Stiles wouldn’t have allowed one of her Betas out of her sights if she thought they weren’t ready, or at least capable of controlling themselves.

“Do you think he did it?” 

“What matter is it, if he did or not? He’ll be dead anyway.” Her grandfather shrugs. He’s got a maniac glint to his eye when he glances at her. “Who did though, will be under my control soon enough.”

She doesn’t know what that means, but what she does know is, she doesn’t like the sick feeling that grows in her stomach, because of it.

~

“You need to be with Isaac,” John tells his daughter, when he steps into the sitting room, dressed in civilian clothes. He’s been home for hours now since he wasn’t allowed any contact with Isaac, and because he needs to get the basement ready for three werewolves. “He’s gonna need his Alpha when he loses his control.”

“But Erica, Scott and Boyd need me too.” Stiles sighs, looking like she’s seven seconds away from losing control herself. 

Derek watches on as she brings the heels of her palms up and dig them into her eyes with a low, frustrated growl. He slides over a little closer to her on the couch, reaches out silently and pulls her hands down, links one of hers with his own and squeezes.

“The others are a little better with their control,” He says to John. To Stiles he says, “Melissa and John can handle them.”

“And where are you going to be, when this all happens?” Stiles asks him, squinting.

He rolls his eyes at her. “I’m coming with you,” he starts, before he glares slightly. “And you’re not going to order me to stay either, because I’ll disobey it happily.”

“I still have the chains your mother and I used for you, when you were younger. Melissa’s gonna bring them with her,” her father continues, smiling over at him in thanks. “And Mountain Ash as well from Deaton. Everything will be fine on our end and _if_ something does happen, like Derek said, Mel and I will handle it, okay?”

Stiles nods once and sighs again. She’s not confident in this going well, but she concedes. “Yeah, okay.”

~

“And what exactly are you going to do when you walk in there?” Stiles asks, eyebrows raised.

Derek just sighs loudly before glancing over at her from his seat in the Jeep.

“Absolute silence,” She continues on, nodding in mock approval. “ _Fantastic_ , Derek. That’ll definitely work.”

“I’m going to _talk_ to her, Stiles.” He says, more than a little exasperated when he rolls his eyes. “ _Distract_ her while you sneak in and make sure Isaac is okay.”

“I don’t like this.” She replies, frowning. She sighs heavily, feeling several types of exhausted. “It feels like we haven’t stopped since Laura was murdered.”

Derek’s heart rate stutters before settling again. Stiles winces and reaches over silently to grip his hand in hers, quietly apologising.

“It’s fine,” he whispers, accepting her apology and soothing her nerves with a squeeze of their hands. “One problem at a time, okay? We make sure Isaac stays in control and then we figure out a defence plan, in case Gerard decides to attack while we’re scrambled.”

Stiles stares at Derek, searching. For what, she isn’t so sure. He doesn’t falter though, keeps their eyes locked earnestly, jaw ticked in determination.

It’s his complete faith in her that allows Stiles to watch him get out of the Jeep, jogging over to the Station doors and effortlessly slipping in. She takes a breath in and exhales, does it again before she’s following after Derek, suddenly feeling re-energised. 

~

“Are you comfortable?” John asks, checking the cuffs he has wrapped around Boyd’s wrists aren’t digging into skin.

Boyd nods, rotating his joints and furrowing his eyebrows slightly when the wolfsbane infused cuffs press against him. It isn’t enough to poison him, just enough to placate him. He lifts a chin down at the chains. “I can smell blood on them.”

John sighs and gives the young werewolf a grimace. “Stiles wasn’t the best on control when she was younger, even with her mother here to anchor her. Would tear at her cuffs trying to get free, until her mother forced her to stop.”

“When did she get a handle on her control?” Scott questions, his voice slightly muffled from his dropped fangs. 

Even Boyd is looking a little wolfy, with his ears now pointed tips. Erica is the only one that hasn’t so much as Shifted a claw, sitting across from Melissa as they play UNO quietly to his right, the chains clinking every once a while when she moves.

“Her control solidified when she was eleven. Claudia said no one in her family had ever reigned their control in under the age of fourteen before.” John explains, a sad smile taking over his features. “She’d been so proud. Boasted it whenever she could to embarrass Stiles.”

“Where – what happened to her Pack?” Erica asks, pausing in her game. She fidgets, before continuing, “I always wondered, but I thought it was a subject no one wanted to talk about.”

He nods a little numbly and rubs a thumb against his bottom lip, taking a moment in trying to figure out a way to explain. He shrugs to himself and decides to just go for the blunt truth. 

“Her Pack didn’t agree on her marrying a human. They were traditionalists that thought humans were beneath them, due to their lack of strength and fast healing factors. When Claudia took the mantle of Alpha from her mother when she died, they demanded we break it off or else they’d kill me.”

Melissa looks angry, the other Betas as well, going by the growls that are echoing in their chests. 

“They’d do that to her?” Melissa snaps, throwing her cards down on the makeshift table she’s sitting at. “Because they refused to accept you as a member of the Pack?”

John looks down at the ring still on his finger, smiling softly at the baying wolf stamped on the gold surface of the band. Claudia had found it hilarious when she saw it for the first time, sliding it on his finger in the church they got married in, had whispered to him that “it’s a little on the nose, isn’t it?” He had just shrugged, slipped her matching ring onto her finger, before pulling her in to kiss her giggles away.

“I told her that she should just stay with her Pack, she needed them a lot more than she ever needed me.” He says, getting to his feet and walking over to sit on the couch they have set up in the basement. John grins at how furious Claudia had been, her eyes a bright, beautiful crimson. “She growled at me, before telling me that a Pack that couldn’t accept who she loved into their fold was one she wanted no part of. She dissolved the bonds herself before jumping into my car and driving off with me without so much as a wave goodbye. We left town that night and never went back.”

“Did any of her Pack come looking for her or you?” Boyd asks, head tilted to the side. 

Despite the full moon he knows is now sitting high in the sky, he looks like he’s somewhat in control. It’s good to see.

“They did,” John muses, thinking about the day they came rolling into Beacon Hills. “Stiles had been fourteen, when Dia’s first cousin and her wife knocked on our front door.”

Erica stands and moves closer, the UNO game now long forgotten, as she settles on the floor before him, her weight settled on her hands she’s leaning back on. Scott follows suit and snuggles up to the blonde, his head resting comfortably against her hip. Boyd slides in between them, his head cushioned on Scott’s stomach while his ankle was tangled with one of Erica’s.

“What happened?” Melissa questions, stepping over the tangle of bodies and chains on the floor before she’s sitting next to him, her back against the chair arm to face him and her feet sliding under his thigh.

“She refused to accept them. She told them that if they wanted her as their Alpha then, they should have wanted her as their Alpha back when she had first taken the mantle from her mother.” John explains, leaning against Melissa’s shins. “They weren’t happy with her decision, tried to sway her but they left soon after when Dia forced them to, to spread word back to the rest of her family of what transpired.”

Scott seems to mull over something, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. “Has Stiles ever wanted to reach out to them?”

John shakes his head. She was like Claudia so much sometimes, it amazed him. Made him think that his wife would be so proud of the woman she’d left behind in her place as Alpha. They were both firm in their decision to keep their distance from the Carmichael Pack, Stiles even refusing to take on any members from her mother’s side when they came sniffing around again.

“I don’t want new Packmates that aren’t going to accept my father, my best friend or his mother.” Stiles had told them, Satomi, an ally and mediator, standing behind her, daring anyone to challenge her young charge. “My Pack consists of human members already, I won’t risk their safety for family ties that were severed when they threatened my father.”

Again, they had tried to change the verdict but were met by his snarling daughter and banishment from Beacon Hills, something that even Claudia had wished she had done when she had the chance. Maybe she’d be still alive, if she had.

John didn’t have concrete evidence, just suspicions and facts that didn’t connect like they were supposed to, but he was positive the Carmichaels, Claudia’s _own_ family and Pack, were the catalyst of her death. The timeline was just too obvious with Claudia’s cousins leaving one week, and the next, his wife dying in his arms at the hands of Hunters that knew when to attack and where. John hadn’t even seen who fired the shot, just heard the gun go off and then Claudia stepped in front of him to take the bullet.

The Carmichaels Pack would be that vindictive to take out their own family member for the slight of choosing a human over them. John knows because Claudia had told him they’d done it before. 

“Keep the werewolf line pure,” Claudia had whispered the night she died as he held her close. “They’d done this to an uncle of mine when he fell in love with a human man. Keep the werewolf line pure. They did this – they’ve taken me from you and our daughter – to make an example of why it should only be a pure.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” He whispered back harshly, putting pressure on the bullet wound in her ribcage, stomach rolling at the blood, a sticky black goo, slipping through his fingers. “You’ll heal. We’ve just gotta get you to Deaton.”

“It’s too late,” she said, hand reaching up to cup his cheek, tears sliding down her face. John had ignored the fact they painted her cheeks black like the blood on his hands. “I’m not gonna make it.”

“You’re – you’re alright,” John had hiccupped, pressing their lips together, once, twice, then once more. He spoke against her lips. “You’re alright, Dia. Come on, just stay awake for me.”

“Tell our baby I love her.” Claudia murmured, eyes slowly slipping shut right in front of him. “I love you both – so much.”

John had clutched at her when she stopped breathing, howled his grief as he shook her, begged and snarled at her to stop joking around and open her eyes. He’s not sure how long he’d held her there, in the dark parking lot of a grocery store they were at, but it was like he’d blinked once, and then his fellow Deputies were pulling him away gently, while paramedics were taking Claudia away in the back of an ambulance. 

He was driven home, blood under his nails and on his clothes. He walked numbly up the stairs of his house before he realised he had no idea where Stiles was and ran into the house, yelling out his daughter’s name, panic thick and hot in his stomach. He had found her in the bathtub, gasping for breath as she struggled with the transference of being a Beta to an Alpha, her eyes flickering from crimson as her fangs dropped and disappeared again. 

“She’s dead, _she’s dead_!” She had cried, screamed, the sounds just loud enough to hide his own breaking heart, as he climbed into the tub to curl up around her.  
It hadn’t helped with him being covered in her mother’s blood, but they had clutched at one another to the point of pain, and cried in the bathtub for hours.

John’s not sure if his daughter knows, if she’s figured it all out, but John doesn’t want to be the one to tell her, that her mother’s Pack were the cause of her death. He’s not sure he can handle reopening that wound and feel like he’s losing his wife all over again when Stiles’ face falls.

Especially with how things went after Claudia’s death with his drinking and his complete ignorance and negligence of his daughter. He’ll never forgive himself for that, for carelessly being so close to losing Stiles just as quickly as his wife, and again, being the reason why.

The only good thing that had come from that entire terrible time is, Stiles had most likely killed the Hunters that had killed Claudia, when they had kidnapped her and he was too drunk to notice or care. The thought makes sleeping at night in a big bed made for two, a little easier. Not better, because Stiles could have died too, but just easier.

“No, Stiles never wanted anything to do with Claudia’s side of the family,” He answers, looking at Scott. “She’s always persisted that she was happy with the family she has, and I know even more so now that it’s grown threefold.” 

Boyd and Erica rumble happily and John knows if Isaac was here too, he’d be just as glad.

John hopes that the young werewolf is having the same kind of night his Packmates are having, no bloodshed or loss of control in sight. Though it’s because he’s talking about his wife and subsequently their Alpha, he’s happy to be the distraction they need, even if his own heart aches.

Isaac will be fine, he thinks, as Erica asks what Stiles was like as a young werewolf, with both his daughter and Derek there to help him, how can he not?

~

Derek had been speaking to the Deputy at the front desk, all fake smiles and saccharine words, despite Stiles’ displeasure cloying at his nose. He had watched from the corner of his eye as she snuck passed and behind the doors leading to the holding cells, her pulse loud and calm in his ears, that he had allowed himself the chance to relax.

It was the stutter of her pulse and the soft gasp of surprise, that had Derek moving into action. He had made up some lie about something happening outside the Station to remove the Deputy out of his way and then he was racing towards Stile and the sounds of growling steadily rising.

“The moon’s pull over newly turned Betas is a tricky thing,” he remembers his mother explaining to him one night, when he’d been seven. “It makes them insanely strong, stronger than the Alpha that sired them, so sometimes a firm hand is needed to keep them grounded.”

Other times it was mostly a gentle affair between an Alpha and their Beta, but there was always the exception. It seemed now was that exception.

“Isaac, I don’t want to hurt you,” Stiles warns, as he skids into the room. “But I will, if I have to.”

He has her pinned to the floor, his bared fangs inches from her nose as he struggled to dig his claws into her flesh. There’s blood staining Isaac’s mouth and Stiles’ neck from an obvious bite attempt and the sight of it alone, is enough for Derek to see red, for something within to snap.

A growl erupts from his chest without his consent and he darts forward, grabbing Isaac by the neck and hauling him off of Stiles a little rougher than necessary, before he’s tossing him across the room.

While Stiles struggles to sit upright, Derek crouches before her on all fours, and snarls in Isaac’s direction, clawed hands digging into the tiles beneath them, anchoring him for an attack from Isaac.

Derek doesn’t know if it’s because Isaac is actually cowed or if it’s his now clear position in the Pack, but Isaac immediately drops to the floor, whimpering loudly as he tries to make himself smaller in the face of a furious, slightly higher ranked werewolf. 

No one moves then, all three of them breathing in deeply, trying to regain some semblance of control. Derek struggles just like Isaac does, half sure that it’s equal parts because of the full moon and seeing his Alpha, _seeing Stiles_ , bleed.

Stiles is the first to shift around, standing at Derek’s back, her hand coming down gently on the nape of his neck. She’s moving to step around him and Derek snaps his jaws at her once in warning, silently keeping her behind him, all the while keeping Isaac in his line of sight, a growl still echoing in his chest. 

Isaac for his part, hasn’t moved from the wall he had pushed himself against, body curled in on itself, even as he kept glancing between him and Stiles with molten eyes.

The hand Stiles had on Derek’s neck slides down and cups the side of his face, Derek turning slightly to nose at it, and then Stiles is crouched right there beside Derek, her eyes flaring a comforting crimson.

“I’m okay, Derek.” She murmurs, smiling softly at him. “I’m okay."

“Your throat,” he bites out, throwing a glare in Isaac’s direction.

“Is fine,” she soothes, turning his gaze back to her with soft hands. She even shows him, the wound long healed to unblemished skin. Stiles presses their foreheads together then and whispers into the small space between them, “You can’t blame him for something he has so little resistance to. He’s not strong enough like you and me. He’s been _sired_ , not born.”

It’s something his mother or hell, even Laura would have said, in those exact same words. _Sired, not born_.

Closing his eyes, Derek battles with the urge to reprimand the other Beta in making their Alpha bleed. He won’t because he knows Stiles is right, that you couldn’t punish someone that didn’t know better, not yet, anyway. If this had happened years later, not even Stiles would be able to stop Derek – and subsequently the Sheriff – from handing out a punishment. After a moment, he nods his acceptance and gets a light nuzzle for it. 

Then Stiles is turning her red eyed gaze onto Isaac. Her upper lip pulls up over her fangs as she growls, and Isaac reacts like he’s been shocked, a high whine all but ripping from his chest as he moves to bare his throat in submission.

Derek has only ever seen his mother calm down an out of control werewolf once in his life, and it had been verbally, her tone gentle and her eyes flaring crimson. Stiles is different in her approach; she crawls forward over to Isaac, the deep growl that had been echoing in her chest, slowly melting away to a soothing cadence, almost a purr.

Isaac responds shyly, glancing up from behind his forearm before darting his gaze away in another gesture of submission, when he sees how close she is. Stiles’ rumble picks up in volume just as she curls around Isaac, her hands tender as she positions his nose in the curve of her throat, inches away from where his fangs had been, her own nose buried in his curls.

Derek follows the silent order Stiles gives him when she nods at him, slowly approaching from the side instead of head on, pausing when Isaac suddenly begins to growl from the circle of Stiles’ arms, and only moving after she soothes him once again.

They don’t have a lot of time but it’s a risk they have to take with Isaac still not in control. He covers the young werewolf’s back until both Derek and Stiles are curled protectively around him, his own rumble underlying Stiles, while they silently will their Packmate to come back.

“Oh god. _Stiles_!” Isaac whines suddenly, jolting in their embrace. He tries to sit up but ends up just flailing in between them, the grip he suddenly has around Derek’s wrists, tight to the point he can feel his bones shift from under the pressure. “I’m so sorry!”

A rumble echoes in Stiles’ chest, and somehow, it sounds forgiving.

“But I hurt you!” Isaac protests with a whimper, “I lost con –" 

“Hush,” Stiles orders, moving until she can connect their gazes together. She must see something in Isaac’s eyes because she smiles at him gently a moment later, before bumping their foreheads together lightly. “It’s okay, we all lose sight of our control sometimes. It happens. You fought to get it back though and that’s what matters.”

There’s a groan from behind him and as one, they all snap their gazes over to where a Hunter is laid out near the wall on the tiled floor. Derek hadn’t even noticed him, too focused on Isaac and Stiles that the extra heartbeat in the room, hadn’t even registered on Derek’s radar.

The Hunter moves sluggishly, trying to get his hands and feet under him as he shakes his head to clear it. Stiles must have thrown him into the cement wall to get him away from her Beta, a crushed needle, that Derek knows once containing wolfsbane, inches away from the human. 

Derek holds Isaac to his chest as Stiles stands and stalks over to him, a clawed hand darting out to curl around his jugular in a tight grasp. She pulls the Hunter to his feet by her grip around his throat, before slamming his back into the wall hard, the toes of his shoes just brushing against the floor beneath them, from how high she has him dangling.

“The only reason why you’re still breathing right now, is because I need you to deliver a message for me.” Stiles growls out. “You tell Argent that if he doesn’t leave my Pack and my territory alone, I’m going to reunite him with his psycho daughter by tearing his limbs away from his body.”

“He’ll kill your mutts right before your eyes, before he cuts you in half,” the man laughs, despite his struggles against Stiles’ iron hold. “And I’m going to be there to watch it.”

The Hunter chokes and splutters suddenly when the grip around his neck tightens marginally.

“Maybe I should just dump your lifeless body somewhere he can find it then. It’s not like your partner will miss you anyway.” Stiles says, before thoughtfully leaning in to sniff at his chest. “She’s pregnant, right? I can smell it on you.”

Derek can hear the smile in her voice and knows that it’s a chilling one, going by the way the Hunter’s already elevated heart rate, skids into overdrive at her words, confirming that they’re true.

“So if you wanna get home to her and your baby, I suggest you do what I say before packing your shit, getting out of my town and never stepping one toe back in it. Do I make myself clear?” Her hand tightens and Derek can see blood trickle down from where her claws have nicked vulnerable skin.

“Yes.” The Hunter rasps out.

“Good.” Stiles replies, nodding, before she’s pulling him away from the wall and throwing him back towards it, the back of his head making a sickening crunch when it connects with the hard surface. 

Stiles lets the Hunter go, watches blankly as he slumps to the floor at her feet. 

“Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here.” She says, turning around to face them. She’s unzipping her jacket as she speaks and tossing the article of clothing over at Isaac when she’s done. “Back in the cell Isaac before any Deputies see you. You should be okay for the rest of the night but keep that on you, _do not_ take it off, okay?”

Derek glances down at Isaac and isn’t surprised to see how wide his eyes are.

“What if I lose control again?” the young Beta asks, fidgeting. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.”

“We’ll be outside.” Derek tells him, moving away. He nuzzles the side of Isaac’s face when he whines softly in protest. “If you do, we’ll be right here.”

Isaac glances at Stiles, and after getting a silent promise within a flash of crimson eyes, follows the instructions given by his Alpha. Stiles leaves moments later, something about checking to make sure that there was only one Hunter here in the Station, so Derek helps Isaac to his feet before leading him to his cell.

Locking the barred door in place, Isaac wraps gentle fingers around Derek’s wrists, a different contrast to the action earlier when Isaac regained his control.

“What keeps you anchored?” he whispers, glancing at him. His eyes pulse between molten and blue. “What stops you from losing it?”

“Anger.” He says, honestly. 

“It used to be anger.” He repeats. “After Laura – after Laura died, it was the only thing that kept me going.”

Isaac tilts his head to the side. “Used to be? What is it now?”

It’s a question he’s never had to ask himself before. When he was younger, his anchor was his family, the way their scent wrapped around him like a protection, the way they ran by his side through the Preserve. 

Then when Kate happened, Laura had taken over that mantle in his chest. She was the only thing keeping him in control and aware of his surroundings back in New York. She stopped him from taking a flying leap off the nearest building sometimes, wrapping around him like only an Alpha and sister could do.

When she was eventually cut from his life by their own uncle, anger had bled into that spot, fast and thick, twisting it before setting into something similar to stone, something that couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , be taken from him without his say so.

“Derek?” Isaac asks, looking concerned.

Derek frowns, suddenly unsure. “I – I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about the word babble, overuse of italics and commas. *shrugs*


	11. Chapter Eleven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literal 6k of word vomit and italic abuse. I apologise.

“They don’t have any proof on Isaac,” her father tells them the next day. “Other than the fact that his prints were all over the house, but that can be waved away with the circumstance that he used to live there, of course they’d find his prints. What the coroner can’t find out is, what the residue that was left in all the slashes is and what caused said slashes in the first place.”

The Betas are all curled around one another in a sleepy, tired ball of limbs, surrounding a solemn looking Isaac as they listen to what the Sheriff has to say. Stiles knows that he’s feeling confused; that there’s pain present and heavy on his shoulders at the loss of his father, but also a sense of relief at having the source of his own torment never coming back to wreak havoc. She feels for him, she really does. 

“So what are they going to put in the reports then?” Stiles asks, rubbing at her temples with a sigh. All she wants to do is sleep and maybe eat a chocolate donut, not at all concerned in which order that happens, so long as it does.

Derek suddenly slumps on her from the right and she rumbles softly at him in thanks as she takes his weight. No one, well, no _human_ that wasn’t in the know of werewolves, would understand or appreciate a twenty-two year old so close to a seventeen year old girl on a couch, but she’s glad that her father is well versed in werewolf tendencies. 

To prove her point, all the man does is smile gratefully at Derek, the older werewolf ducking his head in embarrassment and quiet pleasure at the approval.

“B and E gone wrong.” Stiles’ father says, eyes sliding over to Isaac with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, son.”

Isaac just nods weakly before tucking his face into Erica’s side, a hitch echoing in his chest. Boyd automatically blankets him, a feat Stiles is slightly impressed about since they’re already in one pile of bodies. Scott silently wipes the tears that spill from Isaac’s eyes with gentle hands.

Stiles’ heart breaks a little.

“And the Hunter I knocked out?” She asks, turning her gaze away to look at her father.

“Sent packing with his ‘partner.’ He didn’t have much else to say when Isaac spun the story about being attacked by the man.” The Sheriff explains, looking grim at Isaac.

That was at least something good in the shit storm they all found themselves in. So Stiles thinks, before Derek answers her question of, “Who killed Isaac’s father then?”

“It wasn’t Hunters,” Derek tells her and the Sheriff, when it’s just the three of them, Erica and Scott going together to pick Melissa up from work, and Isaac and Boyd getting Chinese food for dinner that night. “I didn’t smell any wolfsbane and gun oil when I went to the house. I could only scent Isaac and his father there.”

Stiles whirls around from setting the table up and glares across the room, feels her eyes flaring up crimson as she stares him down. “By _yourself_?”

Derek realises he’s made a mistake and obediently avoids her gaze, a whine starting at the back of his throat. He swallows once before he nods his head and whispers, “Yes.”

A growl erupts in her chest as she continues on towards him. “Do you not understand the buddy system that is in place? What do you think would have happened, if they went to investigate while you were in the house?! What that would do to _me_ , if you went missing?!”

Derek’s heartbeat begins to pound behind his ribs, and Stiles is only distantly aware that it matches the fast patter of her own. She feels like she’s admitting more than she should, what with her angered-slash-scared scent filling the room and mixing with Derek’s guilty and apologetic one.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders hunching up by his ears, gaze still averted. He’s pressed against the wall, trying to make himself smaller, but it does little to soothe her. “I just needed to know what killed Isaac’s father. _We_ needed to know, if it was Hunters or something else we need to be prepared for.”

“That wasn’t something you needed to do by yourself!” Stiles growls out, taking that last step so that their sock clad feet are toe to toe. “Literally anyone from the Pack could have gone with you, especially me!”

“Stiles, he didn’t mean any harm by it,” her father interjects calmly, his voice going quiet when she whirled around on him with a silent bare of her teeth.

“I gave a direct order to you, _all of you_ ,” She snaps, eyes still blazing. “One that you and Derek have been vocal about me keeping myself. And now you’re telling me that because _he didn’t mean any harm by it_ , it’s okay?”

Her father doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head to the side in submission, eyes averted and his arms hanging loosely by his sides, belly exposed. Satisfied with him, she rounds on Derek and sees the older werewolf has mimicked her father’s actions, though a low whine is echoing in the back of his throat.

She crowds in closer to him and while letting out another growl, she leans forward and snaps her jaws inches away from his bared throat. Derek doesn’t flinch away but the whine he’s letting out, grows in volume.

“Never leave this house without someone by your side or without telling anyone, without _telling me_.” She barks at him. She looks over her shoulder at her father and flashes sharp teeth in his direction. “And never undermine my orders like that again, or I’ll show you what happens if you do. Do I make myself clear?”

Derek and her father nod silently, throats still bared.

Stiles moves away and continues on setting the table silently, horribly aware that there’s still a high tension in the air, mixed with a good amount of awkwardness. When Derek and her father finally move into placing the dishes of food on the table, a voice from outside proves her point.

Scott tentatively asks, “Is it okay for us to come in now, or should we wait another few minutes?”

~

“I’m sorry, Kiddo.” Her father tells her, when she’s brushing her teeth in the bathroom that night. “You know I’d never intentionally come in between you and the wolves like that.”  
She sighs and nods, rinses out her mouth with the cup of water she has in her hand. She takes a breath before she replies back, “I know you wouldn’t, Dad. I guess I just overreacted after hearing about Derek.”

There’s a subtle, almost unconscious whine coming from said werewolf’s room and Stiles winces. It’s the first interaction she’s had with Derek all night after their conversation in the kitchen, the older werewolf subdued and silent throughout the meal. Even Isaac couldn’t get him to engage and usually with the two of them in a room together, no one couldn’t get a word in, they wouldn’t shut up.

Stiles feels guilty. She was undeniably hard on him, even more so than she was with her father. It was deserved, what Derek did was stupid and reckless. It endangered himself and the Pack and Stiles wasn’t going to let him forget.

Still, Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because the thought of another of her Betas being in the hands of the Argents, is what made her overreact, or if it was just purely the thought of _Derek_ being in the hands of the Argents, that set her off. Either way, it wouldn’t end well with any Hunters walking away alive, let alone unscathed.

She sighs again and silently walks over to where her father is leaning against the door jamb, keeps going until she’s buried her nose into his chest.

“I’m sorry too,” she whispers into his t-shirt, hands coming behind his back and linking them together. She squeezes as much as she’s allowed without hurting him. “It won’t happen again.”

“We both know that’s a lie.” Strong arms come up around her and a nose is buried gently into her hair. “Besides, Derek disobeyed a direct order and I tried to intervene when discipline was being given. As Alpha you were well in your right to see how that discipline played out. What Derek got would be a blessing to others under harsher Alphas, so don’t fret too much, okay?"

Stiles nods and nuzzles her face against his chest one last time, the scent of Pack, of her father, calming her frazzled nerves.

“Okay,” She whispers.

~

Even though Stiles knew that Derek would know it was her at his door, he still loved the fact that she still knocked. It was such a human thing to do, like it was ingrained in her to pretend to be one, just like his mother did with all of her children as well. It’s a nice reminder of his mother to have, even if there was a persistent ache behind his ribs at said reminder.

He opens the door and finds Stiles fidgeting just outside his room, her hands wringing together in front of her. She’s dressed in one of Boyd’s Henleys, practically swimming in the material, and fuzzy socks he knows belongs to Erica.

“I just wanted to apologise to you,” She says, glancing up at him and then away again. “I overreacted tonight and with everything going on, I took my frustrations out on you.”

He heard as much when she was talking to her father. He shakes his head at her. “No, you were right. It wasn’t fair that I asked you not to go alone, when you were looking for Erica and Boyd and then go do it myself. If I was caught and someone got hurt because of it, if _you_ got hurt, I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

The last part feels a little too honest, a little too charged for a conversation between an Alpha and her Second, especially since they have yet to continue their conversation they had in the warehouse.

Stiles seems to get it though, because her eyes somehow shine brighter than they ever could when crimson.

“No more solo missions, okay?” She asks, a smile twitching at her lips. “And I promise I won’t go crazy Alpha on you. Deal?”

Derek smiles back and after thinking about it for a few moments, opens his arms silently. 

He thinks he hears his ribs creak with how hard she hugs him. He doesn’t mind one bit, especially when he buries his face into Stiles’ throat and to his surprise, she bares more of it willingly.

It’s only later on that night, while half buried under Scott and Boyd that Derek realises why he’s so focused on Stiles baring her throat to him. She’d never done that with her Betas, she just physically tucked their noses against her skin to calm them down, to centre themselves. She’d never tilt her head to the side for anyone beside her father being the only exception, because she’s an Alpha. And even then, it wasn’t something that could be guaranteed to happen, just because of who John was to Stiles.

But when Derek moved to press his forehead against the side of her throat, she bared her throat to him, like she was _submitting_. To him. A rumble echoes in his chest without prompt, before he cuts it short at Scott’s sleepy, questioning snort. He’s honoured that Stiles would hold him on the same level as her father. He also feels giddy, if he were being honest and tries not to get carried away with the feeling.

She was still younger than him by five years and alongside the Pack, the closest thing he had to a family. If it weren’t for the chance that John shooting him on sight, for even considering a romantic relationship with his daughter, the thought that whatever is happening between them, could turn to ash like his childhood home, terrifies him. He doesn’t want to lose Stiles or this Pack. 

Still, he can’t help the way he feels, no matter how stomach churning it is, that he could become Kate. He knows he’s not, not realistically, but there’s a voice in the back of his head, that suspiciously sounds like the dead Huntress, that says he is. 

It’s just a massive ball of mixed emotions that sits heavily in the pit of his stomach. It grows and gets heavier every time they touch, every look and silent conversation they share, and he’s helpless to stop it.

Maybe not so much helpless, but _willing_ to.

Derek sighs and tucks his face against Boyd’s ribs, settling in on a long night of tossing and turning. It doesn’t surprise him that he zeroes in on Stiles’ steady heartbeat from across the hallway, her deep breathes mingling in with Isaac and Erica’s, most likely stretched across her like blankets. He counts her pulse like one would with jumping sheep and finds sleep easily within reach.  
~  
Stiles is the first to smell it when she wakes up. The scent of blood.

She’s out of her bed and from under her Betas and down the stairs before she knows it, is throwing the front door open and stifling a shout of surprise when a limp hand whacks her on the ankle.

Derek is behind her in seconds, with a growl already working its way into a snarl. “What is it? I can smell blood.”

Crouching down, she leans over the dead body on her doorstep. It’s the Hunter that had tried to get to Isaac at the Station two nights ago.

She’s frowning, trying to remember to breathe through her mouth and not her nose, so it saves her sense of smell, but fails. Glancing up at Derek, she tells him, “Looks like it’s an answer to my message.”

~

“This is getting out of hand, Kiddo.” John tells her, a hard frown playing on his face. “We can’t keep a lid on this, not with the neighbors all getting a glimpse of that circus show this morning.”

Calling it a circus is a little too generous, in Stiles’ opinion. A goddamn shark frenzy would be more apt. The town was in a panic now, the local news not helping any and adding gasoline to the fire.

“We need to get rid of Argent.” Boyd says, glancing around the room at everyone. “It’s only time before he gets his hands on one of us again and takes the opportunity to kill us.”  
Derek nods his agreement.

“Gerard did more than declare his intentions, he’s started a war. I think it’s time I message Satomi.” Stiles says, from her spot between Erica and Isaac. “But I think me and Allison need to talk first.”

~

Allison’s tense when Stiles walks into the Vet Clinic. It had been Scott’s idea to meet at a neutral place, Deaton more than happy to help out, since neither Stiles or Allison were willing to step foot in the other’s house unprotected. 

She nods at Deaton when he pauses in his conversation with Allison, tells him, genuinely, “Thank you for allowing us to meet here.”

He gives her a small smile and a tilt of his head in respect. “If I can ask for no bloodshed and fighting, that would be best. I don’t want to spook any of my animals.”

Stiles’ mouth twitches in amusement. She dips her chin in concession. “You have my word.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it, Alpha Stilinski.” Deaton nods again before facing Allison and doing the same. “Miss Argent.”

It’s silent as they both watch the Vet walk out of the small examination room, the silence suddenly turning thick with tension when the door closes shut.

Stiles rolls her eyes and gestures to Allison’s rigid posture. “I’m not going to attack, relax. I meant what I said. No bloodshed or fighting.”

Allison smiles a little and shakes herself. “Sorry, it’s been a little hectic.” She pauses and tilts her head to the side, a sudden blush beginning to paint her cheeks. “Are Boyd and Erica –”

Holding up her hand to stop her, Stiles shakes her head. “We’re only here to discuss what you found out about your grandfather. Nothing more.”

She feels bad for a split second at the way Allison’s face falls, but she doesn’t take her words back. Maybe the Huntress did care for her Betas in that ‘not wanting people getting hurt period’ way, but from what’s been shown, it wasn’t likely. Stiles wasn’t going to apologise for bringing Allison’s wrongdoings up. Especially since no apology had been given to her Pack in the first place.

“Right, right.” She nods, biting her lip. “Um, I was in his office the day before – the day before I helped Boyd and Erica, and I found a book in Gerard’s desk. It’s like a catalogue of everything he’s ever hunted, Hunter lore –“

“A bestiary?” Stiles interrupts. “That’s what you’re talking about, right?”

Allison furrows her eyebrows at her in confusion, before a grin begins to tug at her mouth. “You mean bestiality?” 

It’s Stiles’ turn to look confused before she’s suddenly squinting her eyes at her. “No, I’m pretty sure I meant bestiary. I don’t wanna know what you and Scott got up to, thank you. That can stay between you and him.”

Allison’s looks appropriately chided, even if there’s still a light dancing in her eyes. “Okay, _bestiary_. I found one in Gerard’s office and there’s a section at the back, it’s filled with –“

The Huntress pauses and glances warily at her.

“It’s okay, tell me.” Stiles nods.

“Filled with Packs he’s come into contact with. With werewolves he’s killed.” She states. Her eyebrows furrow. “But it’s weird, he only ever killed the Alpha. Never the Pack and never the new Alpha that took the mantle after the old one was killed, if there was even an Alpha to kill in the first place.”

“That’s odd.” Stiles muses, mouth twisting into a frown. 

“That’s not the weirdest thing though,” Allison continues on. “There’s a list of Packs he’s going through and the only thing that’s common with them all, is that they’re all old Packs. Well, from what I could tell anyway, I’m still a little unsure with all our books.”

“Who was next?” Stiles asks. “What was the next Pack name on the list?”

Allison’s eyebrows furrow again as she thinks. Her eyes light up when she remembers, “Carmichael. The Carmichael Pack.”  
Her mother’s Pack.

Her jaw clenches as a niggling feeling begins to grow in the back of Stiles’ mind. She might have an idea of what Gerard is doing, but she needs a little more information.  
“Is there any chance you have that book on you now?”

The Huntress shakes her head. “If it went missing, he would have known I was the one to take it since I’m the only one allowed in his office, unsupervised. It’s in his desk in the principal’s office, the second drawer on the left.”

“I’m going to take it, you know?” She tells her, eyes filled with challenge. “I need to see what’s in there.”

Allison’s mouth tightens in resolve. “I wouldn’t have told you where it was, if I had a problem with it.”

Stiles nods. “Would you be able to get me the keys to the desk?” 

“You’ll only have a small time frame, and no chance of being able to sneak in and out during school hours.” Allison says, after she nods herself.

There’s a pause between them as they silently think of how exactly Stiles can sneak into the principal’s office.

“The Lacrosse game tomorrow night,” Allison starts, eyes wide with the idea. “I invite him with me and Lydia to watch the game and then I can swipe the keys off of him. You just have to get the keys back to me by the end of the game.”

It’s not a bad idea, Stiles thinks, mulling it over. If Stiles were caught however, it wouldn’t be good.

“That’s the plan then,” she replies, knowing that to prove her theory right, she’d have to risk it. “Text Scott’s phone when you’re leaving and I’ll be ready to get the keys off of you.”

Allison dips her head, before biting down on her bottom lip. She seems to hesitate for a second, before squaring her shoulders.  
“The last time I saw you, at your house, you said something about my Mom.” She starts, heartbeat beginning to pound. “What did you mean?”

“That’s not my place to say.” Stiles says, after a lengthy pause.

It’s the wrong thing to say because Allison grits her teeth and glares from across the room. “There’s something going on, there’s things that I’m not being told, or I’m being lied to about and I’m sick of it. Just tell me the truth!”

“You’re right. There’s things that you don’t know.” Stiles runs her tongue over her teeth, can suddenly, overwhelmingly, taste the metallic rust of Victoria Argent’s blood on her taste buds and frowns. “Which is why Scott’s outside and ready to talk to you about what really happened with your mother.”

Allison’s eyes flash and her fists ball up by her sides. On the outside, she looks furious, but Stiles can scent the fear and despair that clings to her skin. “My mother killed herself.”

She ignores the statement and just calls for her best friend, hears the way Scott’s pulse skyrockets to match Allison’s, as he jumps out of her Jeep and makes his way into the Animal Clinic, and then slowly into the room they’re in.

“I’ll let you two talk,” Stiles says, glancing between them. She holds the Huntress’ eyes and tells her, “If this gets out of hand, I won’t hold back, regardless of my promise to Deaton. He’d understand if one of my Pack was in danger.”

She waits until she gets a tight nod, turns and brushes passed Scott, her hand slipping down and tangling with his and squeezing once, before she releases it and steps out of the room. 

As she makes her way to the Jeep, she listens to the silence that plays between Scott and Allison, listens to how their heartbeats have matched in a staccato rhythm.  
“She deserves to know, Scotty.” Stiles says, voice gentle, as she leans against Roscoe’s front tire. “You need to tell her.”

“ _Okay_ ,” he replies back, softly. To Allison, it would have just looked like he was steeling himself to talk. And maybe he was.

“ _The night of the rave, I got a text from you saying you wanted to talk and to meet you there._ ” Scott begins. “ _I never got inside the warehouse because your mother hit me with her car and knocked me out cold._ ”

Stiles hears Allison deny Scott’s words just as Derek steps up beside her, the warmth of his body soaking into her. She silently leans against him, ends up tucked under his arm as her best friend continues over Allison’s protests.

“ _She had me tied up and was filling the room up with wolfsbane. I was – I was dying, Allison. If Stiles and Derek weren’t there, I wouldn’t have made it_.”

“ _You’re lying_!” Allison vehemently snaps. “ _She’d never do something like that_!"

“ _Just like how your aunt wouldn’t burn a house down with innocent people in it? How your father never held a gun against my head while pinning me to the hood of my car, that day in the Preserve_?” Scott replies, not meanly. Just trying to make a point. He clears his throat and whispers, “ _Stiles bit your mother in self-defence. Stiles was protecting me when she did it, she was protecting herself_.” 

Both Stiles and Derek listen silently as Allison begins to cry, as her pulse begins to pound just that harder. She hears movement, figures that Scott had moved to hug Allison if the now muffled cries were anything to go by.

“ _She really tried to kill you? And she got bit because of it_?” She closes her eyes as Allison’s sobs grow louder, as she hiccups out, “ _So she’d rather_ – kill herself, _than stay here – with me and be a werewolf?! Are they that – that bad_?”

Guilt burns hot and heavy in her gut, makes her jaw wobble with the urge to cry herself, for being the one to take a mother away from a teenager, from another daughter. “I’m no better than Kate,” she whispers, feeling the burn of tears in her eyes. She glances up at Derek, feels that first tear slide down her face but doesn’t bother wiping it away. It’d be no use since another follows soon after, and then another. “We’re both monsters.” 

Derek looks gutted, but he shakes his head quickly, the arm that’s around her, tightening around her waist. “You’re nothing like Kate. You never could be." 

“I did that!” Stiles snaps, vision blurry with tears as she points to the Vet Clinic, where Allison continues to sob. “I took a mother away from her child. I made Allison watch, as they lowered her casket into the ground!”

Derek pulls her in then, traps her hands under his arms when she tries to pull away.  
“You protected your Beta by any means necessary.” Derek rasps out into her hair. “Your actions are justified."

“But if –” 

“ _No_.” Is the abrupt reply. The arms that are around her, tighten. “Victoria didn’t have to kill herself. She’s the one that took herself away from her daughter, not you. Everyone has a choice and you never took that away from her, just because you sunk your teeth into her skin.”

“She’d still be here, if I hadn’t.” She whispers, the urge to rage suddenly deserting her and leaving her bone tired. She slumps against Derek, numbly appreciating that he takes her weight effortlessly.

“So you’d rather have Victoria alive and gunning for Scott like she did that night?” Derek murmurs back, pulling away to look down at her. “Or Boyd or Erica? Isaac or Melissa? Maybe even me or your father? Is that what you want?”

Hurt pulses through her veins at the not accusation, makes her tears fall that much faster. “That’s not fair. You know I don’t want any of you hurt.”

The older werewolf leans down and brushes his mouth against her forehead. “And you did everything in your power to make sure that wouldn’t happen.”

Stiles closes her eyes at the earnest look Derek was given her. No matter how he dressed it, Stiles still played a hand in Victoria’s death, indirectly or not.

Derek sighs and Stiles’ eyes flutter open at the warmth that blows over her face. She then feels gentle palms cup her face, thumbs brushing away the tears still sliding down her cheeks. 

“You once said something to me that I’m going to repeat to you right now,” he starts, staring into her eyes. He then presses their foreheads together softly. “It’s going to take a long time for you to believe me, but what happened, isn’t _your_ fault. Victoria’s gone, she’s never coming back and Scott’s alive because of that. All of our Pack is alive right now, because of you.”

Stiles knows that, she does. She’d cut through anyone and everyone a thousand times over, if it meant keeping them all alive. It still didn’t mean she had to like the fact she had to live with it or become the monster, all Hunters thought she was.

Allison’s sobs have somehow gotten much worse, but underneath the heartbreaking sounds, Scott’s voice is a quiet murmur. 

“Okay,” Stiles murmurs, nodding, their noses accidentally nuzzling at the action. “Okay.”

Derek smiles sadly at her. He then nudges her ear to rest over his chest and covers her other one with a gentle palm, so she only hears the soothing thump of his pulse. Circling her arms around his waist tightly and feeling completely wrapped up in Derek’s, she counts each beat, closes her eyes and lets Derek take the brunt of what’s happening around her, for her.

~

The next day sees Stiles and her Pack split up, but with a plan in mind and a focus to execute it flawlessly. Erica and Isaac are her lookouts, her father, Boyd and Derek, Melissa’s wall of protection, sitting in the stands, facing the Lacrosse field to watch Scott and Isaac play. She had made an appearance with both Erica and Isaac by her side, just to make sure that Gerard had seen her, before slipping under his feet when the game started, hand held out as Allison kicked her grandfather’s keys off the metal platform.

“I’ll be five minutes,” She told the blonde wolves, reassuring them with a gentle squeeze to their hands. 

It’s been ten minutes and she’s still sitting in Gerard’s chair, bestiary open and spread out before her, the stench of wolfsbane and death cloying in her nostrils. She can’t really focus on that, because she’s so angry. 

She may been right, this bestiary might actually prove her theory right.

Stiles clenches her jaw and slams the drawer closed, shaking her head when the entire desk shakes from the force. Taking a deep breathe in, she locks the drawer and pulls the keys out before quickly making her escape, the bestiary tucked at the small of her back, under Boyd’s hoodie.

When she spots Erica and Isaac standing at the end of hall looking several types of antsy, she makes her way over to them.

“Well?” Isaac asks, falling into step with her, Erica by her side, flanking her as they hurry down the school corridors. “Did you find it?”

She nods and tells him, “I think I’m right."

“And if that’s the case, we’re going to fight.” Erica says, mouth twisted into a snarl. “Right?”

Isaac’s rumble of agreement echoes her own.

~

It’s almost child’s play in getting the keys back to Allison before the final buzzer, what with the exception of running into a bawling Lydia in the car park. She watches on as Allison bends down and pretends to pick up Gerard’s keys, dimples at him as she hands them over with an innocent, “Oh, grandpa, you dropped these.”

Stiles squints at Gerard, heart in her throat for a moment, thinking that they were all going to be caught, but sighs in relief as the man doesn’t so much as bat an eyelash at his granddaughter in distrust, just accepts her smile and words with a naivety belying his age.

It’s only then that she focuses all her attention on Lydia, who’s still blowing her nose into the tissues Stiles had handed to her.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with him.” She sniffs, using the sleeve of her sweater to wipe away her tears. “He’s been a prick the last few months, ever since I got out of the hospital and then he just cuts me out like that? Like I don’t mean a goddamn thing to him?”

"Listen, I don’t think I’m the right person to give out relationship advice, what with being pathetically single and experienced with horrendous, unrequited crushes,” Stiles starts, awkwardly fidgeting. “But if Jackson really loved you and you him, you’d treat each other a little better, support one another instead of tearing the other down. If you two end up getting back together again, and not for the status of the ‘it couple’, maybe work on that.”

Lydia stares at her for a few moments, red rimmed eyes boring into her so intensely, it’s almost like a physical action Stiles wants to step back from.  
“Why have we never been friends?” She asks, tilting her head to the side. “I think besides Allison, you’re the only one that’s actually given me advice that doesn’t involve making Jackson jealous and grovel.”

Stiles shrugs. “Wrong circles, I guess. And maybe because I couldn’t stop from making a fool of myself in your general vicinity, due to aforementioned unrequited crush?”

Lydia smiles. “Yeah, maybe.” Her eyes slide over her shoulder and stay there. “But I don’t think you have a problem with the second thing anymore, do you, Stiles?”

Turning around to see what Lydia’s looking at, she blinks when she finds Derek standing there a few feet away, all leather jacket, stubble and intense stare. Her heart speeds up without her permission.

Derek’s head cocks to the right at hearing her raised pulse, lips twitching almost shyly.

“Yeah, maybe.” Stiles repeats, a small smile gracing her own mouth.

~

“He’s killing Alphas of established Packs that have a rich history. A Pack that is either just one bloodline, or centered heavily around one. Do you know what that means?” Stiles explains later on that night, the Pack spread out around the lounge room.

Derek is sitting between her and her father on the couch, Melissa taking the lone chair to her right, Boyd and Erica curled up on the other chair on the left, Scott and Isaac sharing the beanbag Derek had bought a few weeks ago, just at Erica’s left ankle.

Her dad is frowning hard, because of course he knows what that means, but it’s Derek that answers.

“Being an Alpha only transfers to the next werewolf in the family.” He explains, to the other Betas and Melissa, who had looked rightfully confused. “Mother to daughter, father to son or vice versa. It then goes to the siblings if there aren’t any children to pass it along to, but it essentially stays in one blood line. It’s why some Packs are so powerful by name alone. Their Alpha mantle stretches back generations, to the very first werewolf blessed by the moon.”

Scott’s face scrunches up in confusion. “But Stiles killed Peter when he was the Alpha, shouldn’t that mean Derek is an Alpha too?”

Stiles shakes her head, leaning against Derek at the mention of his once uncle. She gets a quick brush of a hand against her lower back in thankful reply. “It’s about willing it to the next person as well, it’s not just an easy achievement to attain the status just by clawing out their throat. Peter had no intention of passing the mantle on when he was dying, not to me or even Derek.”

All the werewolves glance at Derek when they hear his pulse stutter. Carefully and quietly, he confesses, “I felt the transfer. When – when Laura stopped being my Alpha and Peter did, though I didn’t know it was him at the time. The Hale Alpha mantle died with my uncle.”

The Pack go silent in the moments after that, mulling over everything that’s just been said.

“That still doesn’t answer the question of why it didn’t go to Derek though.” Erica speaks up, head tilted to the side in thought. “You said the mantle passes to the next in line but that wasn’t Peter. It should have gone to Derek, if his sister Laura was the Alpha before.”

“The Hales are different from usual werewolves. It’s why they were well respected in our world,” Stiles replies, smiling gently at Derek. She nudges him with an elbow, juts her chin out once in a silent ‘tell them.’

“The mantle flowed easily through our bloodline. An Alpha could will it to a cousin or great, great nephew. It’s how my mother got to be Alpha in the first place. Her great aunt didn’t have any siblings or children left, they had all died over the years by the hands of hunters, Pack wars or old age. My mother was the oldest out of the next Hale generation and accepted the request to be the next Alpha when she was twenty five. I wasn’t taught how it all worked, I wasn’t old enough to know before – before my family was killed.”

Is that why Kate targeted you and your family, Stiles thinks, silently, gazing at him. If her theory was proven to be truly correct, Stiles wonders if Gerard set the whole thing in motion.

“I don’t know how, not sure I really want to,” Derek continues, looking down at his hands. He balls them up tightly into white knuckled fists. “But I’m sure Peter forced Laura to give him the mantle before killing her.”

Her dad leans closer to Derek and wraps a rough hand around the nape of his neck and squeezes gently. Stiles’ chest warms at the sight, especially when the older werewolf smiles over at her father in thanks.

“So, what does that mean for us then?” Boyd murmurs, adjusting his position on the couch, when Erica slumps against him, her mouth turned into a hard frown at Derek’s words.

“I need to find out some things first with your help, Mel,” Stiles explains, looking at the older woman, who nods resolutely back. “And if the puzzle pieces fit, we begin.”


	12. Chapter Twelve.

Derek knows it really isn’t his place to ask, but the curiosity has sat at the back of his mind for a while now. Ever since he realised his mother would have known that Stiles’ mother, another Alpha, was here in Beacon Hills. 

He’s not sure why he doesn’t go to Stiles. Derek knows she’d tell him the truth, but for some reason he feels like John would be the better person to ask, for more insight on one Claudia Stilinski. 

“What’s on your mind, son?” The man in question, says. “You look like you’re either gonna ask me a hard question or do something incredibly stupid. To save both our asses, I’d like it to be the former.”

Grinning sheepishly, Derek moves further back into the Sheriff’s office and into the chair before the desk. 

It’s his turn for dinner delivery for both parents currently at work, and he’d handed the beef casserole over no problem, but his pause at the door had clearly set alarms off in John’s head. 

“I did want to ask a question.” Derek admits, trying not to fidget. “It’s about — it’s about my mother and your wife. If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine, I’ll respect that,—“

John holds his hand up and effectively pauses Derek in his roll of babbling. He’s sort of thankful. 

“What did you want to know?” The older Stilinski asks.

“Why didn’t we know about you?” Derek questions. “If my mother told Laura, she would have eventually told me because she couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.”

John shrugs, though his mouth does quirk at hearing about his sister. “Talia thought it best to keep both Packs separated, Claudia agreed. She never said it to me, she didn’t need to, but her Pack’s hate for my human self still smarted whenever Claudia thought about it. She wasn’t willing to put us and then later Stiles, in a situation where we could get hurt, especially if she was born human.”

Derek had got the rundown of what happened between John and Claudia's Pack from Boyd, they day after the full moon. He hates the fact that there were werewolves out there that shared the same mentality of the Hunters that thought they were better, that humans were lesser because they didn't heal like werewolves did. He also feels an ugly twist of denial flare in his chest for his family being compared to said werewolves, but he’s once again stopped with another placating palm. 

“Not that I’m saying your Pack and family would have ever harmed us or put us in a position where we’d be injured or worse,” John soothes, looking at him with a knowing eye. “It was just a precaution, one taken because of not knowing one another. Think of it from your mother’s perspective for a moment about us.”

Derek obeys. He thinks about a random family, a Pack of two then later on three, something completely unheard of, announcing themselves in lands that don’t belong to them, and feels a prick of unease flow over him. 

It would have been a disaster. A bloody war. 

“Claudia wasn’t a fan of tradition or the politics that surrounded that with interacting with other Packs. Your mother on the other hand, ran side by side with those prospects, held them close. Despite their differences though, they both came to an agreement that suited both Packs nicely.”

“And what was that?” Derek asks.

“Claudia and I had a safe place to live, and then a few years later, raise Stiles in. And your mother kept the Hale lands with no protest from Claudia, though that was never going to be an issue. Dia didn’t want power or territory, she just wanted a simple life with her Pack in it. So it worked out well for everyone.”

“Why didn’t Claudia ever expand the Pack?”

“We got used to it being just the two of us when we left our old town.” John explains with another shrug. “We liked the thought of being able to just pick up and move on without anything or anyone tying us down. When Claudia became aware of her pregnancy with Stiles, we realised that we only ever needed three Pack members. We were just waiting for Stiles to come along and complete our Pack.”

Derek’s chest warms at the soft smile on the Sheriff’s face. 

“What about when Hunters or Omegas came through?” Derek asks, feeling intrigued. “I was young, but I remember a few times where my mother had to go to sit downs or run an unknown werewolf or supernatural creature out of town.”

John agrees with a nod. “Dia and I were there for the sit downs. Talia and Dia agreed that having them together as a united front and representatives for Beacon Hills was better for the town. No one really understood the agreement between both Alphas and they tried to pit Talia against Claudia, or vice versa. Sufficed to say, it usually ended up with their blood being spilt for it.”

Derek thinks of his mother, strong, formidable. Then thinks of how intelligent and quick witted Stiles is, and imagines that Claudia would have been the same. 

Their mothers would have been a force of nature.

Derek’s a little sad he never witnessed them together. 

“How your mother kept the knowledge of us to herself and her Second, is staying with them. We never questioned it and we weren’t going to. Wasn’t our right.” John finishes. 

“I wish Stiles and I got to seen them together.” Derek voices his thoughts. “I think they’d have torn through everyone without even trying.”

John grins and leans back into his chair. “There was this Hunting party that came through Beacon Hills when Dia was twenty four weeks pregnant. Talia was pregnant too, I think she was about six weeks.”

Cora, Derek thinks sadly, heart aching slightly. 

“They hadn’t announced themselves, refused to, in fact.” John retells, rubbing his chin with a palm. “Started hanging around and harassing your older siblings and cousins, while they were coming home from school.”

Derek had only been a child then, nearly five, but he does remember Laura coming home, rattled. He remembered the way she had clutched on to their mother, his cousins with their own parents, before Peter picked him up gently and carried him upstairs. 

Derek only realises now that it was to keep his young ears from hearing something he shouldn’t have, but it pains him to think back on the way Peter had read him Stuart Little, with accompanying voices for each character. 

“Claudia and I were on high alert after that. It wasn’t unusual to have Hunters sniffing around, but to go harass young pups, that was crossing a line. One that Hunters knew not to cross, but did anyway to provoke a reaction.” The Sheriff says, his face pinched. 

It was weird to hear John mention children as pups, since he was human. But some things were bound to rub off on a human if they’d lived with a werewolf for so long, or if they grew up in a werewolf Pack. 

Derek had an older cousin, Lynette, who was human. And despite her human senses, she still flared her nostrils as she breathed in, like she could scent something just as easily as a werewolf could. Even John did the same action sometimes, or even raising his upper lip silently when Erica and Isaac got rowdy and started tussling a little too closely to the vase placed on the coffee table. 

“What happened?” Derek asks, feeling like he did when Peter read to him the night Laura curled into their mother’s chest. 

“The Hunters finally agreed on meeting up, but it was just a trap for both Alphas.” John says. “Your father and I arrived just in time to see Talia and Claudia pin two Hunters down with little effort, blood splattered because they’d gone through the rest just as easily.”

Something deep within his chest stretches contently at the violent justice.

“So, yeah. Your mother and Dia were amazing, the strongest Alphas I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. Stiles reminds me of her mother every day. Dia would be proud. Talia would be proud of _you_.”

Derek, hadn’t realised he needed to hear that until it left John’s mouth.

“You think so?” He asks, quietly.

“I know so.” John confirms. 

~

Melissa looks determined as Stiles watches her walk up the porch steps. Her scrubs are a bit stained here and there, her hair tied back into a messy pony tail, but she walks up to her with a glint in her eye.

Stiles shakes her head when the older woman goes to open her mouth. “Go upstairs and shower first. Relax. We’ll discuss what you found out after dinner, when the whole Pack is here.”

Melissa accepts the order with a quick hug before she breezes passed her, grinning when Erica, who had been in the kitchen, bounds up after her, asking if she could braid the older woman’s hair because she wanted to practice some more.

Stiles smiles herself and closes the front door, walks back into the lounge room, where she and Boyd were seated across from one another at the coffee table, studying, when she had heard the specific rumble of Melissa’s car.

Isaac’s laid out on the couch fast asleep, and when Stiles sits down before him, he rolls over in his sleep and presses his nose against her back, just in between her shoulder blades.

Boyd nods at her phone. “They texted.”

Reaching for her it and true to what Boyd says, she sees texts from her father, Derek and Scott, just checking in and reassuring her that they were all safe and fine. She worried and she knew that the Pack felt it, but with everything that’s happened, it was warranted. Hunters wouldn’t risk going for her father at the Station, too many witnesses and of course of the fact that he was an officer of the law, and Scott was protected at the Vet Clinic by Deaton. Her other Betas weren’t that safe unless here in her house and Derek was the wildcard right now, just running to the store to get some last minute things for dinner tonight.

Usually she would have gone with him, or asked either Erica or Isaac to go with him, since she and Boyd were busy with Physics, but Derek had just rolled his eyes and pressed his nose into her hair and told her that he’d be fine at the local grocery store.

“Yeah, we thought the same thing when you went to the gas station, remember?” Stiles asked, trying not to accept the nuzzle into her hair with a happy rumble. 

“I’ll text you when I get there and when I get back into the car.” He soothed, rubbing a rough palm over her elbow. He then grinned cheekily. “I’ll even lock the doors.”

She had reluctantly let him go and felt a wave of relief wash over her, as she read his text telling her he’d be home in the next five minutes. She may also have glared at her phone when he said he did in fact lock his car after getting in. Placing her phone back down on the tabletop, she picks her pencil up and gazes down at her notebook.

“You got the answer to question three?” She asks, squirming slightly when Isaac’s breathes warms her skin through Scott’s Henley she’s wearing. “I keep getting different answers.”

As Boyd begins to explain how he got his answer, Stiles’ mind wonders back to the papers she saw peeking out of Melissa’s handbag.

 

~

“Stage four,” Melissa explains around the mouth of her cup, the papers spread out in front of her. She points at one with her chin. “Started in his liver and spread before they could catch it. It’s gotten aggressive though over the last couple of years, he’s on a cocktail of medication just for the pain alone.”

Derek’s jaw aches from how hard he’s got it clenched.

“He has the nerve to hunt us, to call us _monsters_ and now he wants to use us to heal himself –” His words cut off with the snarl that echoes in his chest and he knows his eyes have flared blue. 

Stiles isn’t faring any better, her hands are balled on the table and he can scent blood. 

Before anyone can move, Erica, who’s sitting beside Stiles, reaches out and wraps her fingers around Stiles’ wrists, a soothing rumble at the back of her throat. Slowly, the blonde she-wolf has her Alpha’s hands relaxed, Isaac there with a tea towel from the kitchen, gently wiping away the blood that coats Stiles’ palms.

“He’s trying to get the bite?” Scott confirms, staring at his mother, eyes full of disbelief. His gaze darts to him and Stiles. “And then he’s gonna kill Stiles so he can become an Alpha?”

Derek watches as Stiles’ eyes flash.

“Looks that way,” She grits out. “He’s hunted old Packs that can will the mantle freely in the Pack. It’s the only common link between them.”

“But he’s not family,” Boyd points out, frowning. “How can he get the mantle if he isn’t related to the werewolf bloodline? And you said that only the Hales could will it freely in the Pack. Can you do that too?”

Stiles shakes her head. “My mother had the mantle because she was an only child. Her mother had been the last sibling to receive the mantle from her brother. I can’t give him the mantle even if I wanted to.”

“Then how does he think he’s gonna become the Alpha?” Melissa questions.

“Unless, he hasn’t figured it out yet?” John muses, rubbing a thumb over his chin. “Werewolves keep this kind of thing silent until it’s your time to know, for this very reason that it could be taken away from them. It would explain why he’s kept going and hasn’t stopped.”

“How do we stop him then?” Isaac asks, “There’s more Hunters coming into Beacon Hills every day.”

“I say we just wait until the old bastard is coming outta the hospital, and tear his fucked up liver outta his stomach.” Erica growls, eyes flashing.

It’s says something about the situation they’re in, that the parents in the room don’t comment on Erica’s language. They honestly look like they’re contemplating her plan, just like the rest of the Pack.

“No,” Stiles says, earning her a round of disbelieving looks. “I want him dying with the knowledge that there was no way he was going to become one of us, after claiming we’re nothing but mindless, killing abominations. My face is gonna be the last thing he sees, but only after his plans are known by his men. I’m not gonna give him the satisfaction of having his people attack us in a vendetta because of his death.”

“It would be stupid not to air out his bullshit,” Isaac says, nodding. “So, how do we do it?”

Stiles tilts her chin up. “Pass me my phone. It’s time I made a phone call.”

~

Derek is methodically teaching the Betas how to get out of their chained, wolfsbane infused bounds, all of them sitting in a circle on the floor of the Stilinski household. Stiles had wanted them to know after explaining to Derek and Isaac, about how she got out of hers when she was younger and held hostage by a group of Hunters.

They’re frustrated, Scott the most as a low level growl grates at the back of his throat, but they’re beginning to learn that using your strength against what’s holding you back, might not work. 

The sound of bone snapping echoes in the otherwise silent room and Derek glances over at Boyd, whose eyebrows are furrowed in pain as he slips the chains off from around his wrists. Isaac seems to get it then as he watches, gaze darting over to his, before he follows Boyd’s example with a determined tilt of his mouth.

“Absolutely not,” Erica says, watching them, her bound hands now resting in her lap, her bare skin of her calves going raw from the touch, since she’s wearing a pair of Isaac’s boxers under Derek's own Henley. “I’m not going to willingly hurt myself just to get out of these! Get them off, now!”

“Between life and death, a little pain would be nothing in the grand scheme of escaping, don’t you think?” Derek tells her, eyes serious as he doesn’t so much as twitch in her direction. “Get them off yourself.”

Scott, who had been watching with wide eyes between Isaac and Boyd, takes a quick breathe in and while using the chains, breaks his own wrists. He bites back a growl, eyes flashing, before he wriggles in place to slip the chains off.

Derek’s in the process of showing Erica how to do it correctly and nodding in approval when she does, when the scent of an unknown Alpha reaches his nose. It’s at the same moment all the other wolves tense up as the doorbell rings, and then Stiles is in the room, a calm rumble echoing in her chest.

“Derek with me,” She says walking passed them, hand reaching out as she goes by the Betas, to run a hand over the napes of their necks gently. “Everyone else, upstairs.”

Thankfully it’s just a house full of werewolves, the Sheriff and Melissa at work now that the McCalls and Isaac were staying at the Stilinski house permanently, until Gerard Argent was taken care of. It wouldn’t help things if a fight was to break out and there were humans, especially human Pack members, around and doubly, if one of them – namely John – jumped into the middle of the fray.

He follows after her, feeling confused at the idea of an Alpha he didn’t know at his Alpha’s front door, but Derek readies himself anyway. For a fight or something else, he wasn’t sure.

Stiles opens the door to reveal an older Asian woman standing there, almost regally, hair pulled back into a tight bun on top of her head, hands clasped before her. Her eyes hold a wised age that has seen many horrific things, but they’re gentle as well.

Definitely the Alpha.

Behind her stands another woman with a katana strapped to her back, a Beta and the Alpha’s Second if he were to guess, since Stiles allowed Derek to stand with her in whatever this was going to end up being. There's something different about her though and it puts Derek on edge, so much so, that his eyes flash. He's surprised when he sees a glowing fox form surround her, large and muscled, and in possession of all nine tails.

A kitsune. And a powerful one at that.

“Alpha Stilinski.” The older woman greets, nodding her head in a bow, eyes flashing crimson.

“Alpha Satomi,” Stiles replies, her own head dipping in respect, her eyes most likely red too. She tilts her gaze passed Satomi and dips her chin slightly, "Miss Yukimura."

"Miss Stilinski," she replies, nodding back, though she is grinning brightly. "There's no need for formality with me, Alpha, my mother isn't here. You can call me Kira."

Stiles grins back and accepts Kira's words. "Where is your mother? She'd never allow her absence from an important meeting like this."

Kira shrugs, but it's Satomi that answers, "Noshiko thinks it's time she step up with her duties since she will be taking over when Noshiko steps down. I agreed."

There's a stern bite to her words that tells Derek and Stiles both, that she's digging around in things that don't concern her. 

Stiles bows out reservedly with a nod. She stands to the side and ushers the women in, before leading them towards the Sheriff’s study. When they get to the room, the door closed and effectively closing the soundproof room off, a tense silence follows.

Stiles is standing stiffly for a moment but then, with a rumble in her chest, is darting forward towards the older woman, arms stretched wide.

Derek goes to growl and bare his teeth, but stops short when the other Alpha laughs in delight, her own arms curling around Stiles in a hug so tight, it makes his ribs ache at the thought of being caught in the embrace.

Kira clearly knows what’s going on between the Alphas because all she does is grin fondly at the two.

“You’ve grown so much since I last saw you, little one.” Satomi praises, pulling away to look Stiles over, a pleased smile playing on her face. “Your teeth have come in nicely.”

From the way Stiles grins sharply, Derek knows it’s not her human teeth she’s talking about. He fights the urge to shiver.

“And I see you’ve brought a Hale back home.” The older Alpha continues, eyes now on him. “Good. It’s been far too long since a Hale wolf has run through this town.”

Derek startles at her words. “You know I’m a Hale?”

Letting Stiles go, she walks over to him until they’re half a foot apart, her hands reaching out slowly, to show she means no harm, before warm palms cup his face.

“You have your mother’s eyes and her spirit,” She murmurs, gaze taking in his features. A cheeky smile tugs at her lips then before she turns to throw a wink at Stiles and Kira. “And his father’s good looks.”

Derek blinks once, twice, before he feels his face heat.

Stiles lets out a snort before she gestures to the table that’s behind them. “Shall we talk?”

~

“Argent executed an Omega without consulting me first. He had two of my Betas strung up in his basement without proper cause,” Stiles argues, jaw clenched. “And then dumped a body at my front door. The first act alone is more than enough for me to rip his heart from his chest.”

Satomi nods her agreement, but she’s frowning. “You only have a Pack of eight. Four of them newly bitten wolves, two humans with only one of the two knowing how to fight against one of us. And then there’s you and Derek as the most experienced wolves, but not by much. You’re not strong enough to take Gerard Argent and his Hunters on.”

“Which is why I called you,” Stiles says, fists clenched.

Derek wants to take that last step towards her chair, and place a soothing hand around the nape of her neck to calm her. He doesn't though, knows it isn't his place, so he keeps himself rooted in place behind her, has to clench his hands into tight balls to stop himself.

“I can’t help you, Stiles." Satomi says at last. "I want to, you know I would in any other case, but what’s going on in my Pack and yours being so new, that’ll be a war between us and not who deserves the fight.”

Stiles’ shoulders twitch. “Are you telling me that my wolves are unstable they’d create a Pack war?”

Satomi gives her a dry look, one that even Derek feels properly chastised by. “Don’t look for offence where there is none.”

“He’s threatened my Pack, more than once, and each time I have held back from tearing his innards out. I won’t hold back the next time my Pack is threatened.” Stiles tells her, standing up. “With or without your help, I don’t care of the consequences to the territories outside my own, but I will _kill_ Gerard and I won’t stop for anyone who stands in my way, until his heart beat does.”

“Stiles, this is –” Satomi starts.

“Over,” Stiles finishes, moving to the study door. She opens it and stands beside it, her chin raised in defiance. “If you won’t help me, there’s no need for you to be here, then.”

“You’re letting your pride talk, pup.” The older Alpha warns, getting to her feet, Kira close enough to cover her back if Derek were to attack. “You can’t do this on your own.”

Stiles glances over at him, her eyes hard and determined. Derek nods his head once, telling her silently that he was with her. She then connects her gaze back with Satomi. 

She tells the woman, “Watch me.”

~

“You didn’t tell her about our plan. You didn’t even tell her what we know about Gerard.” Derek says, when it’s just the two of them, curled closely together while they pretend to watch TV. The Betas are sacked out in front of them in a ball of limbs. It amuses and pleases Stiles to see, the way Scott has his face buried in Erica’s curls and Isaac stretched over Boyd like a breathing blanket, her father and Melissa curled together, Scott’s legs thrown over theirs. “I thought that was the whole reason why Satomi was here.”

Stiles shrugs. “Satomi is like Deaton, likes to play the neutral card until they’ve either been pushed into a corner or a favour is called. She would have disapproved if she knew.”

“Even if that meant breaking an alliance between the two of you?” Derek asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Sighing, Stiles moves closer to him and presses her forehead into the ball of his shoulder. She feels humbled that he doesn’t flinch from her touch or growl at her being so close.  
She honestly can’t remember when he did, if she were to be honest. Even when Peter was on a bloody warpath, he was always the first one to get into her space. Sure, it was to intimidate her, but she never saw him flinch from her touch.

Maybe, he never did.

“We’ve had disagreements before, this wasn’t the first time and it certainly won’t be the last.” She mumbles, not bothering to lift her head up so he could hear her voice clearly. “Our alliance goes deeper than just being friendly to one another. We’re connected.”

Derek shifts away from her slightly so she can see the look of curious disbelief playing on his face. “How so?”

“Satomi is my Godmother, at times after Mama died, she was my mother all but in blood.” Stiles says, a smile tugging at her lips. She glances up at Derek and shrugs again. “She can be a stubborn wolf when she wants to be, but so can I. I learnt it from her and my mother after all.”

“Satomi is your Godmother.” Derek repeats flatly, staring at her. He shakes his head seconds later, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Stiles finds herself glaring playfully as she lifts a hand to poke him in the side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Derek is still smiling and Stiles is helpless to stop the flutter of butterflies that take flight in her stomach.

“You’re constantly changing.” He says, eyes roaming over her face, an emotion she can’t identify playing on his own face. “The moment I think I have you all figured out, you do or say something that doesn’t fit into the box I have you in. It’s a little confusing.”

Stiles can feel his breathe on her face and she tries to keep her pulse from skyrocketing at his words and at their close proximity. She was all but plastered to his side, his right arm curled around her body and his hand resting on the curve of her hip. Had they always been that close or did they shift in the last three minutes without her knowing?

“Maybe you shouldn’t put me in a box then.” She whispers, gaze sliding over his face. “Save you the trouble.”

Derek’s eyes seem brighter as his gaze darts down to her mouth before coming back up again to her eyes. He nods softly, swallowing hard enough for her to hear it without her strong sense of hearing.

“I think I’ll have to.” He replies, voice soft. He moves away from her, puts distance between them that seems a little more respectable considering their ages. 

Stiles is loath to admit she misses his body heat.

~

“You’re distracted.” 

Stiles startles, snapping her head up to see he father frowning heavily at her.

They’re in his office at the Station, eating lunch together for the first time in a long while. She’s missed this, coming in and sniffing out all her father’s stashes that he’s not supposed to have and making sure Parrish is keeping his promise that no fatty food passes her father’s lips. 

When she had stepped in passed the front doors to the place, Bethany, the receptionist had let out a happy noise of surprise, jumped up from her seat and rounded the desk so fast to wrap her arms around her, Stiles almost suspected the older woman had to be a person of the supernatural as well.

Stiles had hugged her just as tightly though and spent twenty minutes with her, just catching the other up in what was going on in their lives.

“That Derek Hale is a nice boy to you, isn’t he?” She continues on, “Or am I gonna have to give him a firm talking to?”

Stiles had laughed, feeling a faint warmth playing in her cheeks as she reassured Bethany that Derek was the perfect gentleman at home.

Bethany had nodded, satisfied, before sending Stiles on her way with a promise that she should come around for tea and a slice of her famous carrot cake.

“Of course I am, Dad.” Stiles replies to her father’s comment with a roll of her eyes. “With everything going on with Gerard, you’re lucky I’m not bouncing off the walls.”

“You’re distracted _more_ than usual. And don’t think I don’t know about what happened with Satomi. She called me this morning and told me you basically kicked her and Kira out of the house. You’ve never been so quick to jump the gun with her. She’s now concerned and if she is, that’s means for me to be, too.” John shakes his head at her, points his fork at her with a squint of the eye. “Now, am I gonna have to Sheriff you into telling me what’s wrong, or are you going to do it willingly?”

She sighs, glances down at her half eaten pasta salad, - something healthy she decided to eat with her father in solidarity, – and sighs again. That was probably what set alarm bells off in his head. He knew she’d eat anything and everything in sight in a mouthful of bites and for the past five minutes, she’s poked around at it.

Taking a deep breathe in, Stiles decides to just say it. “I like Derek and I know I shouldn’t. Especially with everything going on, I can’t have that distraction hanging over me.”

There’s silence after that and she flinches, before taking a peek up from her salad at her father. His mouth is agape, fork still held in the air, but it’s gone slack in his grip and now points to his desk. 

He seems to shake himself out of whatever it was that had him immobile, before he drops his arm into his lap and his fork into his food container. “Well, that was surely left field, but you two getting closer isn’t exactly news to me, Kiddo.”

Stiles feels her own mouth drop in surprise. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She gets an unimpressed look, one she’s seen many a time in her younger days when she did something reckless, usually with Scott following after her. “I have eyes, Stiles. I can see how you two act around each other, how protective you are over the other. It goes beyond that of platonic Packmates.”

Spluttering, Stiles tries to find her footing in the conversation. All she can really think is, “Are you mad?”

John smiles gently at her and shakes his head. “I trust you two. I know you’d never do anything to hurt Derek, and I know the same can be said about him. The age difference is a lot to swallow, but the fact nothing has happened so far, is more than enough to reassure me of shooting Derek would only end in me getting blood over the carpet, and in the sights of a very, very angry Alpha. That's not to say I won't hurt him if he so much as upsets you consciously, I will. And most violently.”

She stares down at her food again, mulling her father’s words over. “If I was older, or Derek younger, would you approve?”

There’s a loud, deep sigh and then it’s her father telling her, “Come here.”

Stiles is up from her seat and in his arms in seconds, her face pressed against the curve of his throat and his strong arms wound tightly around her body, caging her in, protecting her better than any bulletproof vest or fast healing factors ever could.

“You can’t think like that, Kiddo.” He whispers into her hair, rocking them softly like he would when she used to have nightmares as a child. “It doesn’t do anything but torment you with what could be. You and Derek deserve better than that.”

“I’m scared.” Stiles whispers. She blinks her tears away at her sudden confession, but finds her words are more than true. The fear burns her veins just as brightly as the frustration burns behind her eyes. 

Frustration at the situation she finds herself in, the same one that she’s selfishly dragged Erica, Boyd and Isaac into. At how Scott’s heart is being torn into two with having to choose between Pack and Allison. She’s constantly worrying about her father, the fact that he could be taken away from her by a Hunter or werewolf, just as easily as a stray bullet or a domestic violence call gone wrong. His health could be better, something that plays on Stiles’ mind whenever she sees her father wince when getting up from the couch or the morning creaks in his back.

Most of all though, she’s frustrated at having Derek close, but still so far away from where she’d like. And she’s not even sure where that is since they haven’t had a moment to breathe, let alone talk.

It’s enough to make her want to tear her hair out and howl her anger to the skies.

“This is too much for me to handle. I can’t even keep two of my Betas safe from Hunters, how am I supposed to protect everyone?” She continues on, babbling, as the tears build up and slide down her face. “Mama would know what to do, she’d be able to do this, she’d kill Gerard and protect everyone better than I ever could and –“

Warm, rough hands cup her cheeks gently, and then she’s staring into her father’s eyes through a watery gaze.

“You listen to me,” He says, voice shaky. “Your Mama was an Alpha all should strive to be. She stood tall, with a ferocity that made even the strongest werewolves shake at the knees. She was all grace and dignity, capable of passing judgment fairly and dealing with any trouble so swiftly, it sometimes spun my head around on my shoulders.”

Stiles hiccups and sobs loudly, feeling her chest tighten at her father’s confirmation that she wasn’t worthy to take on her mother’s mantle.

“But you want to know something?” He asks, pressing their foreheads together, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “Not even she could predict how amazing you’d be as an Alpha, when we spoke about it at night while you slept. You may share half of my DNA, baby, but you are your mother’s daughter through and through. You’ve surpassed her in more ways than I can count and all I can hear in my head when I look at you, is her proud howls.”

“But I can’t –“ Stiles starts.

“ _You will_.” Her father states, interrupting her. “Whatever it is you think you can’t do, you can. You’re strong enough baby, and when you feel like you’re not, the Pack, I will be, for you.”

Stiles cries that much harder, but throws her arms around her father’s neck and holds on.

~

Half buried under a sleeping Erica and Derek that night, Stiles whispers into the silence, “I’m gonna make you proud, Mama. I promise.”

She’s only half sure that it happens, but Stiles hears her mother’s rumble of approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally managed to bring Kira into this! I'm so proud of myself. Hopefully she will be in this more. *fingers crossed*


End file.
